fT5 




Class J r . O // ^f 
GopiglitW 



COFmiGHT DEPOSm 



NO PLAYS EXCHANGED, 



^aCSOGl 



B7\HCR3 



or 



Edition 

PLnY3 



A KING'S DAUGHTER 









(>^C; ;iU 1893 




COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 



piays for flmatcur St^eatrieals. 

' BV CeORGe 7^. BKKER. 

^wZ/^^^^^/'M^/a/^wr- /7r«m^.." "The Mimic Stage," "The Social Stager "The Draining' 
Room Stag-e" ''Handy Dramas;' ''Tiie Exhibition Dramas," "^ Baker s Dozen, etc. 

Titles in this Type are New Plays. 

Titles in tLtn XuP<^ «''« Temperance Plays, 



DRAMAS. 

*•"•,:- ■ fn Four A cts 

Better tHan Gold. 7 ""a'e. 4 female 

char 

In Three Acts. 

liar F'Olcs. 6 mak, s female char. 

The Flower «.f tlie lamily. 5 
male. 3 female char. * . . . . • 

Enhsti-d fok the War. 7 male, 3 fe- 
male char • 

Mv Hrother'b Keeper. 5 male, 3 fe- 
male char, . . .. . ,. • ,0 • » • 

Th<' LUfU' Jirotvii Jug, 5 male, 3 
female char. ......••• 

In Tzvo Acts. 
Above the Cloudi-. 7 male, 3 female 

char • . • • • 

One Hundred Years Ago. 7 male, 

4 female char 

AMONCr THE Breakers. 6 male, 4 female 

. char ° •■■/•' 1 ' 

Bread ON THE Waters. 5 male, 3 female 

char. • 

Down by the Sea. 6 male, 3 female 

char 

Oncb on a Timr. 4 male, 2 female char. 
The J. ast J^oaf. 5 male, 3 female char. 

In One Act. 
otand by thf Flac;. 5 male char. . . 
Vhe Tempter. 3 male, i female char. 

COMEDIES AND FARCES. 

A 3Iysterioiis Dis-'ppearance. 4 

male, 3 female char. ....... 

Paddle Your cwu Caoue. 7 male 

3 female char. . , 

,4 "Drop too Much. 4 male, i female 

char ; . • • • • • ' 

A Litfl*- More Cid'T. 5 male, 3 fe- 
male char. . . .' . . . • • ,• • 

A Thorn Among the Roses. 2 male, 6 
female char. 

i^EVER ^AY DiK. 3 male, 3 female char. 

:^;eeing the Elephant. 6 male, 3 female 
char. . . o 

The Hf>sTOV Dip. 4 male, 3 female char. 

The Duchess of Dublin. 6 n.ale, 4 fe- 
male char. ... = ..'••• 

Fhirtv Minutes for Refreshments. 

4 male, 3 female char. . . . ^. • • 
fV^-'re oil Teetotalers. 4 nifie, 2 te- 

male char. .»..••'••• 

Ma^e Characters Only. 

\ Close Shave. >> char. ...00. 

A PnBi.ic Bpnefactor. 6 char. ■, » ». 

,1 Sea of Trovbles. 8 char. .... 



COMEDIES, etc., continued. 

Male Characters Only. 
A Tender Attachment. 7 char. . . 

Coals of Fire. 6 char 

Freedom of THE ^KF-ss. 8 char. . . . 
Shall Onr Mother- Vot*-? n char. 
Gentlemen OF THK Jury. 12 char. . . 
Humors OF THE Strike. 8 char. . . . 
I\Iy Uncle the Captain. 6 char. ... 
Niiw JiROOMS Sweep Clean. 6 char. 

The Great Elixir. 9 char 

The Hypochonpriac. 3 char 

The Man with the Jbeniijohn. 4 

char 

The Runa\yays. 4 char. ...... 

Thk Thief of Time. 6 char 

Wanted, A Male Cook. 4 char. . . . 

Female CJiaracters Only. 

A Love of a Bonnet. 5 char 

A Precious Pickle. 6 char 

No Cure No Pay. 7 char 

The Champion of Hek Sex. 8 char. . 
The Greatest Plague in Life. 8 char. 
Thb GkBCiAN Bend. 7 char. . . » . 

The Red Chignon. 6 char 

Using the Weed. 7 char* 

ALLEGORIES. 

A rrangedfor Music and Tableaux* 
Lighthart's Pilgrimage. 8 female 

char. • • • o • • • • • J ' 1* 

The Revolt of the Bees. 9 temale 
char ,* °r * 

The Sculptor's Triumph, i male. 4 te- 
male char. 

Thh Iournament of Idylcourt. 10 fe- 
male char. .*......'. 

The War of the Roses. 8 female char. 

The Voyage of Life. 8 female char. . 

MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC. 

An Original Idea, i male, r female 
Bonbons; or, the Paint King. 6 male, 

I female char 

Capuletta; or, Romeo and Juliet 

Restored. % male, i female char. . 

Santa Claus' Frolics 

Snow-bound; or, Alonzo the Brave. 

and the Fair Imogene. 3 male, i 

female char. ........•• 

The Merky Christmas of the Old 

Woman who Lived in a Shoe. . . . 
The Pedler or Very Nice. 7 male 

char. • 

The Seven Ages. A Tableau Enterfam. 

ment. Numerous male and female char. 
Too Late for the Train.- 2 male char. 
The Visions of Freedom, n female 

char. • . . t 



WALTER H. BAKER & CO., 23 Winter St„ Boston. 



A KING'S DAUGHTER 



^ (S:omtl2 i« 2I^!)t^^^ ^rtS 



FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS ONLY 



BY 

RACHEL E. BAKER 

AXTTHOK OF "the CHAPEBON," " AFTER TAPS," ETC 




or WASK 



BOSTON Tz^tV^^ 



I 



1893 



.G3)C5- 



CHARACTERS. 

Mrs. Graham. 

Aunt Clarissa. 

Rebecca Spencer, who thinks herself ** oyie of the girls .^^ 

Helen Graham, Mrs. Graham's daughter, 

Florence Baldwin. 

Kitty Greene. 

Sallie Browning, a ^^ Kodak fiend. '^ 

Ruth Adams. 

Mabel Morris, whose genius burns. 

Polly Graham, zvho would like to be Ok King's daughter. 

Nan Graham, Afrs. Graham's niece. 



' The King's Daughters. 



Time, the present. Costumes, modern. 
Time in representation, two hours. 

Act I. The King's Daughters. 

Act II. "In His Name." 

.'. ; Act III. The Fairy Godmother. 




Copyright, 1893, by Rachel E. Baker. 



A KING'S DAUGHTER. 



ACT I. 

Scene. — Mrs. Graham's drawing-room. Usual furniture. En- 
trances c, R., atid L. /;/ flat. Window^ R. c. ; fireplace, r! iii 
fiat ( tea-table, with chair R. of it, by fireplace ; large table, 
R. c. ; chair down L. Curtain raised, discovers Helen Graham 
standing behind table, R. c, cutting fiannel ; Kitty Greene at 
R., seated, sewing] Florence at l., sewittg. Girls laughing 
atid talking. 

Kitty. Won't it be just too jolly for anything "i 

Florence, The boys have all promised to come. 

Helen. We can have the sale in this room. Mamma is willing. 
Of course it will be a success, and the society of King's Daugh- 
ters will be considered a valuable addition to the vast army of 
charitable institutions. 

Kitty. Every town has a band of King's Daughters now. If 
our work keeps growing, we won't have time for anything else ! 

Helen. Never mind. Only think how famous we will be ! If 
a man should meet one of us, he would doff his hat and think, 
" One of the helpers ; " if a woman, she would bow low and say, 
"Ah, there goes a King's Daughter." 

Kitty. Fame is all very well, but it won't mend my clothes. 
There is an appalling array of repairs awaiting me at home this 
very moment. 

Florence. They should sink into insignificance before the 
good work you are doing. 

Kitty. No sink to them ; they float upon the surface of my 
memory with an " I don't intend to be forgotten" air. 

(Rebecca Spencer appears at door, c, dressed in the extre7jie 
of fashion.^ 

Rebecca. Ah, how de do girls ? Thought I would look in 
upon you. I am such a creature of impulse, you know. 

3 



4 A KING S DAUGHTER. 

Helen {offers chair). Do sit down, Miss Rebecca. (Rebecca 
sits.) We are very busy, you see. The girls meet here in an 
hour, and we are preparing the work. 

Rebecca. So noble of you, girls. My soul is stirred with an 
impulse to do noble deeds. It thirsts for them. 

Florence. You will be just the one to attend our fair. We 
are to have a soda fountain, and shall expect that thirst to be 
allayed. 

Rebecca. Ha, ha, how clever you are ! I had such a delight- 
ful walk this morning. I was wandering in the lane, where the 
birds were singing and the buds were peeping forth. I am such a 
creature of impulse, and, being inspired with the dramatic fire of 
Shakespeare, I took a position like this {rises, and poses draviati- 
ca/iy), and with a yearning voice spoke thus: " Romeo, Romeo, 
where art thou, Romeo? " and, gir/s, whom do you think — 

Kitty. The Deacon. 

Rebecca {coquettishly) . Yes. 

Kitty. Beware, Miss Rebecca. They say that " in spring a 
young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love." 

Rebecca. Ha, ha, you silly creature ! The Deacon appeared, 
and my impulse was to turn and flee, but a little voice within me 
said, " Faint heart ne'er won — 

Florence. A deacon. Ha, ha. Miss Rebecca. 

Rebecca {seated). I remained, and we walked and talked. 
{Sighs.) Would that I had'some noble work to perform. 

Vi.^UK'^ {exxhanges glances with the girls). Why not devote 
yourself to the Deacon. He leads such a lonely- life, poor man. 

Rebecca {sighs). He does, indeed. 

Kitty. What work more noble than to toast his slippers before 
the open fire ; to caressingly brush his curling locks. Oh, they 
do curl, Miss Rebecca? 

Rebecca {sighs). Yes. 

Kitty {rises). Let me paint a picture for you. 

Florence. Why, Kitty Greene ! I didn't know that you were 
an artist. 

Kitty {looks at her with meayiing; taps forehead). The can- 
vas upon which I paint is here. Let me see. A cosey sitting- 
room like this. A blazing fire upon the hearth. {Becomes dra- 
matic.) The fast falling snow beats heavily against the casement 
window. A woman is seated before the cheerful fire. She holds 
something in her hands. Her eyes have a tender look in them. 
This something awakens pleasant memories. Her lips are parted 
in a smile. What can it be ? A book? No. A beautiful flower, 
perhaps, whose fragrance makes glad the heart of the woman ? No. 
What can it be ? 

Rebecca {eagerly). The Deacon's slippers. {Confused; girls 
laugh.) 

Kitty. Yes, Miss Rebecca. Then comes a familiar step. The 
woman rises with outstretched arms, her eyes bright with the 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 5 

light of love, her lips eager to form the words of welcome. {Girls 
lau^h.) . . 

Rebecca (rises). Nonsense ! Your imagination is too vivid, 
Miss Kitty. Because you are in love, don't thinly that the whole 
world will follow you. Paint a picture for me, if you will, but one 
of noble deeds performed. I envy you. I long to join you in your 
good work. 

Helen {crosses to her). Do you? So glad. I hate to cut 
out flannel. {Takes her by arm.) 

Kitty {sa?ne business) . I don't like to baste. You would do it 
beautifully. 

Rebecca {rises). Oh, no. 

Florence. Your needlework is world-renowned, and I have an 
important engagement before the meeting. 

Kitty. So have I. 

Helen. And so have I. We know of no person more trust- 
worthy. 

Rebecca {retreats toward door, c). But I couldn't stop a 
moment. 

Girls {bri?tg her forward). Oh, yes. 

Rebecca {retreats) . I should spoil it all. 

Girls {same business). Oh, no. 

Kitty. Just think of the noble deeds! 

Florence. No more thirst of soul. 

Rebecca {at door). Some other time. 

Helen. Your name would hve forever. 

Rebecca {with dignity). The name of Rebecca Spencer will 
always live. {Exit.) 

Florence {laughing). Haven't a doubt of it. It will be Re- 
becca Spencer to the end of the chapter. 

Helen. Didn't we frighten her? Poor IVIiss Rebecca. I wish 
the Deacon would be a creature of impulse and propose to her. 

Kitty. It isn't impulse that he needs. It is courage. 

Florence. Suppose we turn match-makers, and help them out. 

Kitty. How? 

Florence. Give me time to concoct a scheme. {Looking off 
L.) Here comes Nan. 

Helen. She will help us with the work. 

Kitty. That is hard on Nan. She always helps, and it is gen- 
erally the part that we don't like. 

Helen {carelessly). Oh, she is used to it. 

{Enter Nan.) 

Helen. We are tired, Nan. You finish the work. 

Nan {quietly). Very well 

Helen. And be sure and have it ready by three o'clock. 

{Exeunt Florence a7id Helen.) 



6 A king's daughter. 

Kitty {who is still at work). I think it is mean, Nan, to make 
you work so hard. 

Nan {at work behi?td table). Oh, I am used to it. I haven't 
any home of my own, you know, and must expect to. 

Kitty (rises) . Don't you get very tired sometimes } 

Nan. Yes ; very often. 

Kitty {folding work and laying it upon table). My work is 
ready. You won't have that lo do. {Ar7n about Nan.) I like 
you, Nan, if you are poor. {Places sfuall box in Nan's hand.) 
Here are some chocolate mints. Good-by. {Rtms offc.) 

Nan. Dear Kitty. She has the right spirit for a King's Daugh- 
ter, — a loving word for every one. She has given me that which 
she prizes most, — candy. Will my letter never come.'' I hardly 
dare to dream that I shall be fortunate enough to secure an ap- 
pointment as teacher, and, with it, freedom from dependence — my 
life and future in my own hands. It makes my heart light to think 
of it. {Sings and works. Some one whistles outside.) There is 
my faithful swain. {Rims to wi?idow ; opens it.) Good-afternoon, 
Jack. On your way to school .? For me? {Catches flower, which 
is thrown into window.) Oh, thank you. I shall be very proud 
to wear it. Good-by. {IVaves hand; goes behind table, fastening 
flower in gown.) Ever since I nursed Jack through the measles, 
he has never forgotten me. 

{Enter '^oisly jumping rope ; sees Nan ; stands upon chair behind 
Jier and covers Nan's eyes with her hands.) 

Polly. Guess. 

Nan {lajtghing, takes Polly's hands from her eyes) . I don't need 
to, Polly, dear. Your voice is such sweet music to my ears, I never 
forget it. {Holds up face; Polly kisses her.) But, my dear 
child, I thought you were in school. 

Polly {bringing Nan doTini front). I was, but I had such a 
dreadful feeling, I couldn't stand it another moment. 

Nan. Why, Polly! Are you suffering? 

Polly. Yes — for cake. 

Nan. You witch ! You had two pieces this morning. 

Polly. That is just the trouble. It had such a moreish taste, 
I couldn't stand it. 

Nan. Your mother will not be willing for me to give you any 
more. 

Polly. But I shall. Come. 

Nan {goes back to her work). I haven't time, Polly. Helen 
would not like it. There is so much to be done. The King's 
Daughters will be here soon, and I must have everything ready. 

Polly. Oh, bother the King's Daughters! {Throws rope 
around Nan's waist.) You can't escape me now. Come on, like 
a lamb led to the slaughter. 

Nan. It would be slaughter of cake, if you had your way. 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 'J 

{Business of dragging Nan across stage ; Nan, with both hands 
upon rope, resists ; finally Polly gains, and both are at door, l., 
laughing 'j do not see Aunt Clarissa, who tries to enter at same 
time.) 

Aunt Clarissa {assumes harsh manner). Children! What 
are you doins: ? Trying to make a telescope of me ? 

Polly. Yes, Aunt Clarissa, if it would bring the cake any 
nearer. 

Aunt C. Well, I never ! You are always up to some mischief. 

Polly. Can't help it. Was born with the love of fun — and for 
cake. Come on. Nan. 

Nan. If scoldings follow your third piece of cake, you must not 
blame me. 

{Exeunt Nan and Polly.) 

Aunt C. Three pieces of cake in one day ! When I was a 
girl, I thought myself lucky to have one piece a month. {Sits 
in chair by fireplace.) Here I am, having thrown myself upon 
the mercy of relatives who have not seen me for years, alone, 
without a child, and with more money than I know what to do with. 
Rather late in life to begin deception, but I must find out which of 
my nieces would love me for myself. {Rises and looks at work 
upon table.) Making preparations for the King's Daughters. As 
I profess not to have a penny in the world, I cannot give them 
money openly, so I will try this little scheme. {Takes envelope 
from pocket, puts money into it, writes upon it.) Where sliall I 
put it ? {Crosses to tea-table.) Just the place. (Sallie Brown- 
ing appears at door, c, with Kodak-, takes Aunt Clarissa's 
picture just as she places envelope upon table ; laughs, watches her 
a fnoment, then disappears.) My deception will prove which of 
my nieces is a King's Daughter at heart. {Crosses to door, R.) 

{Enter Mrs. Graham and Helen.) 

Mrs. Graham. Where are you going, Aunt Clarissa? 

Aunt C. {resiwtes cross mamier). To my room. I do not 
wish to be disturbed. {Exit.) 

Helen. She must have left her manners at home. 

Mrs. Graham {seated at -r. of table). I don't know what to 
do. Your Aunt Clarissa, having lost her money through the un- 
fortunate speculations of some friend, has no home, and must 
remain with us. 

Helen. The coolest proceeding that I ever heard of. {Crosses 
with basket' of work to chair down l. ; sits and works.) The 
house isn't large enough as it is. If we keep on, we shall be sup- 
porting an asylum for poor relations. There is Nan. She has to 
be clothed and fed. I don't see why her Uncle John did not leave 
her some money. Only an old bonnet, which once belonged to his 
wife. So old-fashioned, it is no earthly good, except for private 
theatricals. 



8 A king's daughter. 

Mrs. Graham. I promised your father that Nan should always 
have a home. As to giving her the advantages which you and 
Polly must have, it is simply out of the question. The only thing 
to do is to give Polly's room to Aunt Clarissa, and you share yours 
with your sister. 

Helen, Now, Mother Graham, you know that such an idea as 
that is absUrd ! Polly is a terror, and so disorderly. I much prefer 
to room with a cyclone. (Polly appears at door, c, eating large 
piece of cake.) It would be disastrous, but of short duration ; with 
Polly it would be eternal chaos. 

Polly. That isn't fair, Helen Graham. If you want to call 
me names, why don't you do it to my face. If I am an " eternal 
chaos," I don't put on loppy airs, as you do. {Sits upon table^ 
swings her feet, atid eats cake.) 

Mrs. G. That will do, Polly. Where did you get that cake? 

Polly. Oh, me and Nan found it. 

Helen. Polly Graham, what language ! " Me and Nan." 

Polly. Well, Nan and me, if you like it better. 

Helen. You should say Nan and I. 

Polly {looks at Helen). Any one that is called an "eternal 
chaos " isn't expected to speak grammatically. 

Mrs. G. No more of this. The King's Daughters will soon be 
here, and you ought to be in school. 

Polly. I think it is just as mean as it can be that I can't be a 
King's Daughter. 

Helen. You are too young, Polly ; you don't know how to sew. 

Polly. Hm ! A lot of sewing you girls do. You just meet and 
pretend to be so busy, but you are talking about people all the 
time. 

Mrs. G. Wlien you have finished, Polly, I should like to speak. 
(Polly, very cross, jinnps down from table.) The house is so 
small, I must give your room to Aunt Clarissa. 

Polly. All right. I can sleep with Nan ; she doesn't call me 

names. , .„ , . , t -n 

Mrs. G. a happy thought. Yes, that will do nicely. I will 
attend to it at once. {Exit.) 

Polly {goes behind Helen; luhile she is talking, takes ribbon 
from basket and ties Helen to chair) . Let me join the club, won't 
you, Helen ? I can dam stockings, anyway. 

Helen {laughing). If you didn't mend them any better than 
you do your own, the poor people would all have bhstered heels 
and toes. 

Polly. Nan savs that I do them real well, so now ! 

Helen. Oh. Nan thinks everything that you do is perfect. 

Polly. Well, jw^ don't. 

Helen. Do run awav, and don't bother me. 

Polly {runs to door, c.) . Here they come, the King's.Daughters. 

Helen. I must meet them. {Tries to rise, but is held by rib- 
bon.) Why, what is the matter? 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 9 

Polly. One, two, three, four of them. 

Helen {discovers what Polly has done). Polly Graham, come 
here this moment and untie me. 

Polly. Couldn't think of it; I might "bother" you. 

{Enter Nan.) 

Helen. Nan, do come to my rescue. 

Nan {laughing; unties ribbon). Polly up to pranks again? 
(Helen rises; tries to catch Polly, who dodges behind tables 
and chairs,) 

Polly. Take care, Helen ; you will make " eternal chaos " of 
this room. 

Helen. If I catch you, Polly Graham — 

Polly. But you can't. Ha, ha. {Runs f#C.) 

Helen {sinks into chair). That sister of mine will be the death 
of me. Just because I won't let her join the club. 

Nan. Why not.? If I understand the true meaning of the 
name, it is to give help wherever it is needed, whether young or 
old. 

Helen. I do not wish Polly to join the King's Daughters, and 
that settles it. {Rises,) The next thing we know, you will be 
wanting to join it. 

Nan {bitterly). Hardly. You never allow me to forget that I 
am a dependant here ; that your mother has given me a home. 
There is no need for me to join a club, I have plenty of work, as 
it is. 

Helen. You ought to be very thankful that you have a home. 

Nan {looks at her). I am — very. (Aunt Clarissa heard out- 
side calling, ''Nan, Helen, Polly?'') 

Helen. There is that amiable Aunt Clarissa. I wish that she 
had concluded to visit some of her other relatives. 

{Enter AuNT Clarissa.) 

Aunt C. Oh, there you are. A pretty time I have had of it. 
Helen, find my glasses. 

Helen. Indeed ! What right have you to order me about ? If 
you wish to live with us, you must find your own glasses. 

Aunt C. Well, I never ! A chit of a girl like you to talk in 
this way. Nan ! 

Nan {crosses to her). Yes, Aunt Clarissa; here they are. 
{Glasses have been hanging down Aunt Clarissa's back; leads 
her to chair by table?) 

Aunt C. I need to have a pair of eyes in the back of my head. 
{Wiping glasses.) Your mother says that company is coming. 

Helen, /am to have company. The King's Daughters. 

Aunt C. You don't say so. Royalty? 

H'E.i.iB.-H {shows ajtnoyance) . No ; a club of young ladies. They 
meet and work for charity. 



lO A KING S DAUGHTER. 

Aunt C. A fashionable fad. Hm ! 

Helen. You must not sneer like that ; we do a great deal of 
good. 

Aunt C. It would be better i( you did more work at home. 

Helen. It isn't necessary. We have Nan to help us. 

Aunt C. Oh, yes. It is " Nan » here and " Nan " there, all the 
day. 

Helen. You call upon Nan just as much as the rest of us. 

Nan (at door c). Please do not make me a topic of conversa- 
tion. Some one is coming. 

Helen {ru7is to door). It is Sallie Browning. Be sure and have 
everything ready, Nan. {Exit.) 

Nan {comes down). Aunt Clarissa, I will find your glasses, 
bring to you anything you may wish, only don't, please, talk of me 
to Helen. 

Aunt C Why do you allow her to impose upon you .'' 

Nan. I cannot help myself. I am a dependant here. Aunt 
Graham has given me a home. 

Aunt C. Didn't your Uncle John leave you any of his money? 

Nan. I am afraid not. He was eccentric, you know. They 
have not found his will yet. Just before he died he gave me such 
a queer legacy. 

Aunt C. What was it? 

Nan. Only an old bonnet which belonged to his wife. He told 
me it would shelter my head from the storms. I shall never part 
with it, of course, but it is useless. 

Aunt C. Can you show it to me ? 

Nan. Certainly. I won't be a moment. {Exit.) 

Aunt C. Just like a man. The idea of giving anything like 
that to a young girl ! 

{Enter Nan, wearing old-fashio7ied bonnet; kneels beside Aunt C.) 

Nan. " Dost like the picture ?" 

Aunt C. Hm ! A fashion of fifteen years ago. Why don't 
you do something to make yourself independent? There are 
plenty of ways for one to earn a living. 

Nan {eagerly). If you will promise not to breathe a word of it, 
I will tell you a secret. 

Aunt C. You will find me Hke the contribution box — ready to 
receive, but no returns. 

Nan {after looking cautiously about ; Helen enters c; stops to 
listeti). I have studied every night for the past 5'ear in my own 
room after my work was done, and have passed the examinations 
successfully. I am only waiting for an appointment as teacher. 
The mail may bring it any day. Only think of it, Aunt Clarissa, to 
take care of myself — to be out in the world, away from Helen's 
tyranny. I hardly dare dream of such happiness. {Girls heard 
outside laughing.) Not a word, remember. (Helen exit.) 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 1 1 

Aunt C. {wipes her eyes). I am glad of it. 

Nan {looks at her in surprise) . Why, Aunt Clarissa ! Tears 
in your eyes for me ? 

Aunt C. {resumes sharp tone, and rises). Mind your business, 
you hussy, and take me to my room ! 

Nan {gives her arm to Aunt Clarissa'). Ha, ha, auntie. 
You can't deceive me. Your bark is worse than your bite. {They 
exeunt R., Aunt Clarissa shakmg her head.) 

(Helen a7id Sallie Browning appear at door c, their backs 
tur?ied to audience. Sallie has a Kodak, and is taking some 
one's picture. Snaps Kodak.) 

Sallie. Ha, ha. I have him. Poor little fellow. See him 
run. Evidently he thinks that that snap means powder. {Girls 
enter.) 

Helen. Sallie, you are a perfect fiend with that Kodak ! Every 
man, woman, and child will have had their pictures taken before 
the summer is over, 

Sallie. Of course they will. What is a Kodak for, if not to 
make your friends miserable. 

Helen. I haven't a doubt but you will make its mission a suc- 
cessful one. 

Sallie {points Kodak at Helen). And you shall lead the 
procession. 

Helen {inoving out of range). Thanks, but I decline the 
honor. 

Sallie {places Kodak upon table). Here I am arrayed in war- 
paint and feathers for the massacre of flannel. Bring on the 
victims. 

{Enter Kitty and Ruth.) 

Kitty. Hallo, girls ! 

Ruth. What do we work upon to-day? {All the girls have 
sewifig-bags J take off hats and coats.) 

{Enter Nan.) 

Sallie. Here's Nan. {Girls group about Nan, who takes 
their coats and hats.) 

Kitty {noticing flower which Nan wears). Nan has a sweet- 
heart. Come, confess. 

Nan {laiighing). No secret. My lover is four feet in height, 
and twelve years old. 

Kitty. Rapid youth. He is beginning young. Who is \tt 

Nan. You will be jealous when I tell you. 

Kitty. I am green now with jealousy. 

Nan {shakitig^finger at Kitty). It won't be Kitty Greene long, 
from all I hear. 



12 . A KINGS DAUGHTER. 

Girls. O Kitty, do tell us ! 

Sallie. Are you engaged ? 

Kitty. No, I am not. Don't you see that Nan is trying a 
game of bluff.-* We will pursue you, Nan, so be honest. 

Nan. We will spare you this time, Miss Kitty. My admirer is 
Johnny Mullen. I call him Jack for short. He has been my 
devoted admirer ever since I helped him through the measles. 
He thinks that I saved his life. {At door j laughs.) You see, 
my romance cannot prove a very serious one. 

Ruth. Oh, dear! I wish somebody I knew would have the 
measles. 

Kitty. Think of Tom Mason having th^ measles ! {Girls 
laugh.) 

Helen {arm about Ruth). You and Tom seem to be getting 
on finely without the measles. Come, girls, get to work. 

Sallie {girls seated). Beth Hamlin and Mabel Morris are not 
here yet. 

Ruth. Where is Florence BaWvvin? 

Helen. She will soon be here. She has something on her 
mind. 

Ruth, Is she in love ? 

Kitty. For mercy sakes, Ruth Adams ! Don't think because 
you have a man on your mind, every one else has. 

Helen {distributing pieces of Jl ami el to girls). We work to-day 
for Mrs. Mullen and her family. We are to make flannel skirts. 

Florence. I hope it won't be anything that needs hemming. 
I detest it. 

Sallie. I had much rather hem than gather. 

Kitty {looking in bag). I do believe that I have forgotten my 
thimble. Never could sew without one. 

Sallie. Kitty is trying to crawl. Helen has an extra one, I 
know. 

Helen. Yes, I will find one. {Calls, '^ A^an,'''' at door; coines 
down.) Here comes Florence. {Enter Florence, rumiitig.) 

Florence. O girls ! I have the best scheme. 

Girls, What is it t 

Florence {sits). Let me get my breath first. You know 
Deacon Starr. Well, he is a bachelor. 

Kitty. As he has lived a bachelor in this town ever since we 
were born, that is not very startling news, and not worth losing 
one's breath for. 

Florence. Do wait and let me finish. Then, there is Rebecca 
Spencer, spinster. 

Kitty {with sarcasm). More news. Florence, you are a 
wonder. 

Florence. I propose that the King's Daughters shall do some 
match-making. 

Girls {interested). What do you mean? 

Florence. Let us get to work, and I will tell you.- 



A king's daughter. ij 



(Enter Nan.) 

Nan. Did you call me, Helen ? 

Helen. Yes ; Kitty has forgotten her thimble. Will you bring 
mother's .'' 

Nan. Certainly. {Turns to leave the roojn.^ 

Sallie. Oh, dear! 1 haven't a needle. Nan, will you please 
bring me a needle 'i 

Florence. My scissors are too dull for anything. A pair of 
scissors, please. 

Nan. Don't you think that I had better bring some thread ? 

Helen. Yes ; Sallie will need it when she gathers. (Sallie 
groans; Nan exit.^ We must be more careful about our sewing, 
girls. (Takes notes from pocket.) Here is a note from iMrs. 
Brady. (Reads.) " Dear Miss, — The little shirts yees made for 
the boys was just illegant. Only, would yees moind (I axes yees 
pardon for my boldness), plaze, wid ,the nixt ones sind some 
sthrong thread, for the stitches don't hold together." (Girls 
laugh.) 

Florence. That is a hint at our sewing. 

Helen (reads another note). Here is one from Mrs. Murphy: 
"Dear Miss, — Shure, if yees don't moind, will yees make the 
binding of the shirts for the baby a little larger. At prisent, whin 
the dear darlint lies down, he has to sit up, the neck is so tight." 

(Girls lajigh) 

Kitty. That young hopeful will be a stockbroker when he 
grows up. He believes in a margin. 

Sallie. Now tell us your scheme, Florence. 

Girls. Oh, yes. 

Florence. We all know that Deacon Starr has loved Rebecca 
Spencer for years, but hasn't the courage to offer himself. Now I 
think it would be a kindness to help them. 

Ruth. Just what our club is for. 

Kitty (thinks a moinent). The Deacon is too old for measles. 
Couldn't work that. 

Florence. Let us make the Deacon jealous. We will send 
Miss Rebecca a love letter from some unknown admirer, and the 
Deacon shall hear of it. 

Helen. We can have a post-office at our sale. 

Florence. Good — just the thing. 

(Enter Nan with basket of sewing materials.) 

Nan. For fear that some one had forgotten something else, 
here is a full supply, from the finest cotton (laughs and looks at 
Florence) for hemming — 

Florence (sighs). Oh, dear! 

Nan (looks at Sallie) . To the strongest for gathering. 



14 A KING S DAUGHTER. 

Sallie {sighs). Oh, dear ! 
Nan. No excuse for any one now. 
Ruth. Why don't you join our club, Nan ? 
Nan {exchafiges glances with Helen). Oh, I am — too busy. - 
Helen. Yes, Mamma could not very well spare her. She must 
be wanting you now, Nan, 

Nan {with mecanng). Yes, my charity begins at home. {Exit L.) 
Florence. I thought that Nan was your cousin, Helen ? 

(Polly appears at door c.) 

Helen. Only a very distant one. 

Polly {whistles). Well, I never ! 

Helen. Polly, it isn't good form to whistle. 

Polly. It isn't "good form" to tell fibs. Nan is our first 
cousin, and you know it. She is just as good as we are, if she is 
poor. She doesn't sew for poor people, but she helps them, just the 
same. When Mrs. Mullen's children were sick, Nan went down 
there at night after her work was done and took care of them. 
Distant cousin ! She is such a near cousin that life wouldn't be 
worth living without her. 

Helen. You probably won't be deprived of your incentive to 
live. Nan won't leave us in a hurry. 

Polly. I don't know about that. {Holds up letter.) This 
looks suspicious. 

Ruth {rises). A love letter! Do let me see the handwriting. 

Polly {waves her aside). What, make my Nan's secrets public 
property ? Never ! 

(Mabel Morris ^w^Beth Hamlin 7'un in c.) 

Helen. Why, girls, you are late. 

Mabel. " Late ! " Good. Just the word I have been trying to 
find. {Comes down to fro7it of stage; takes paper from pocket; 
writes.) 

Florence. Struggling with poetry again, Mab ? 

Beth. I should think so. I couldn't get a word out of her all 
the way 

Mabel. Yes, I have been working for hours upon just four lines. 

Sallie {takes up Kodak). \^\\2X\ You working, Mab? I 
must have your picture. {Snaps Kodak.) Let's hear the poetry, 
Mab. 

Mabel. You will make fun of it. 

Florence. Never. 

Mabel {starts to read). You will laugh. 

Ruth. Not a smile. 

Mabel {reads). 

" Hurrah ! for genius that sleeps in my pate. 
To be a fine poet is surely my fate. 
Dear Muse, a laggard I very much hate. 
Awake from thy slumbers before 'tis too late." 

(Girls applaud.) 



A KINGS DAUGHTER. 1 5 

Kitty. Wait until we hear that slumbering lion roar. I hope 
you will keep him chained. 

Sallie. Doesn't your head ever ache .'* I should think so 
much pent-up genius would make it heavy. 

Mabel {stands defiatit with hands folded). That is right. Make 
me a targ'et for your shots. I can stand the volley. 

{Enter Polly.) 

Helen. Why don't you write a story, Mab ? 
Mabel {seated). I intend to some time. These are only pot- 
boilers, 

Polly. What is a pot-boiler .? 

Mabel. My first attempts. They light the flame of genius. 

{Enter Mrs. Graham.) 

MjRS. G. Good-afternoon, girls. (Girls rise and shake hands 
with her ; she looks at work.) You are really accomplishing some- 
thing. Mrs. Mullen will be, or ought to be, a very happy mother to 
have so many stitches taken for her. You must be tired. 

Florence. We are. Isn't it time to take a rest 1 

Sallie. Yes, let us bid good-by to work. 

Kitty. All right ; I am with you. (Girls place work upon 
table.) 

Helen. I will show you the things for the fair while we are 
waiting for the tea. Polly, you may light the kettle on the tea-table. 
(Mabel drops paper of poetry on floor j Girls exeunt with Mrs. 
Graham, laughing and talking.) 

Polly. I am allowed the pleasure of lighting the lamp. {Bows 
profoundly.) King's Daughters, I appreciate the honor, and in 
consequence shall feel toppy for the rest of the day. {Walks about 
room with dignity ; sings to air of "/';// so happy, Pm so happy, ^^ 
— "• Fni so toppy, Pm so toppy.'^) I wonder where the matches are. 
{Picks up paper from floor.) Mab's poetry ! Just the thing. She 
uses it to light the flame of genius, why not as good for alcohol ? 
{Unseen by audience, lights paper zvith match and lights la^np.) 
That ought to be soothing tea. So much slumbering genius. 
{Takes letter from pocket.) Nan's letter. She shall have it at once. 
I think it is from the school committee. Hope it brings good news. 
{Starts to put letter in pocket ; drops it on floor.) I have an idea. 
{Takes plate of cake from tea-table.) I will take this cake to Mrs. 
Mullen. If I can't sew for her, I can give her something to eat. 
It will do the King's Daughters good to deny themselves something 
for sweet charity. Ha, ha, won't Helen be just furious. It will be 
too late. While she is giving vent to her wrath, the five little Mul- 
lens will be sitting in a row devouring the cake. If I can't be a 
King's Daughter one way, I will another. {Exit c. with plate of 
cake.) 



id A king's daughter. 



{Enter Helen.) 

Helen. I wonder if Polly lighted the lamp. {Crosses to tea- 
table.) Yes, and the water will soon be boiling. (Sees .letter on 
floor ; picks it up.) A letter for Nan, and in a man's handwriting. 
From whom can it be .'* I should like to know. Her appointment 
as teacher, perhaps. It is not closely sealed. {Looks cautiously 
about.) Nan need never know. {Opens letter.) No, much as I 
would like to read it, I will not stoop to so base an act. Nan a 
teacher! She would leave here, and become independent. She 
has made a secret of this. The idea of taking such a step without 
consulting us ! I will have a secret, too. Miss Nan, just long 
enough to make it too late for your appointment. You will find it 
.isn't wise to have secrets from me. {G1KI.S heard laughing ; Helen 
puts letter in pocket and calls " Girls " at door c.) 

{Enter Girls.) 

Helen. The tea is not quite ready. Suppose we rehearse our 
song for the fair. 

Girls. Oh, yes! 

Helen. The costumes are all ready in my room. (Girls rush 
to door R. and exeunt laughing.) 

{Enter Nan.) 

Nan {moves table to back of room while talking). Oh, if that 
letter would only come ! If they only knew how anxious I am to be 
free and independent — to take myself from here where everything 
is a constant reminder that I am poor! No, I must not say every- 
thing, for Polly's love has been the one bright spot in my weary 
life. Her laugh is the sunshine ; her true heart keeps mine from 
losing courage. Why has fate been so unkind to me } Surely, I 
am as deserving as Helen, yet all the good things come to her, 
while I must not even dream of such pleasures. {Sits at table; 
leans head upon hands.) 

{Enter Polly, c.) 

Polly. Talk about my fondness for cake ! Those little Mullenses 
would breed a famine in a pastry shop. Why, Nannie dear, what 
is the matter ? 

Nan {wiping eyes). Nothing, dear. I lost my courage just for 
a moment. 

Polly. I almost forgot. I have a letter for you. {Puts hand 
in pockety 

Nan {rising quickly) . A letter ? Oh, give it tO me, Polly. 

Polly. I will just as soon as I can find it. {Takes from pocket 
three handkerchiefs^ hair ribbon^ and gloves.) Dear me ! I hope I 
haven't lost it. 



A KINGS DAUGHTER. ly 

Nan {eagerly^. I hope not. Look again, Polly. 

Polly {goes over same business). No, I must have dropped it 
when I went to the Mullenses. I'll just fly. {Makes for door c. ; 
stops and comes down again.) Oh, Nan ! I just met the little lame 
girl, Mollie Grant. She was crying. 

Nan. Crying ? Did you ask her why ? 

Polly. Yes ; and she said that the school committee had taken 
away her sister's appointment. 

Nan {indignantly). Oh, that is a shame. She is the only sup- 
port of her family. 

Polly. I told her that you would run over and see them. You 
always help people when they are in trouble. {Arm aj'onnd her.) 
Don't lose courage again, will you, Nan ? When you cry, it takes 
a piece of my heart right out. Pll come right back. {Rnns out 
door c.) 

Nan. The Grants are in trouble again. The committee ought 
to be more thoughtful. When I dare to dream of the happiness 
such an appointment may bring to me, I can realize what the dis- 
appointment must be to Janet Grant. I will go to her at once. 
Perhaps I can help her. {Exit c.) 

{Enter Girls dressed in white students^ caps a7id gowns. They 
wear the silver cross and purple ribbon. They stand in line at 
back of stage. Girl in c. siJtgs solo; others join in refrain and 
chorus.) 

Six little maids stand in a row. 

{Refrain ;Q,\-Rvs courtesy.) The King's Daughters. 
Dressed in the cap and gown, you know. 

The King's Daughters. 
Happy is the girl who joins our band, 
And lends to all a helping hand. 
We meet together to work and sew. 
Then take a rest like this, you know. 

(Girls ^<7/« hands and walk to front of stage during chorus.') 

(CAorus.) Gayly we laugh and sing 

Through the long day; 
Loud do our voices ring, 

We feel so gay. 
We are a merry band 

Of maids to see. 
Helpers in this our land. 

You will agree. 

{End Girls titrn, separate, and anarch toward back of stage ^ 
followed by the others, meeting in c, ready for second verse.) 

Six little gowns of snowy white. 

The King's Daughters. 
Their praises we can all indite. 

The King's Daughters. 
Grateful are many, who know us well, 
Of kindly deeds, each one can tell. 
Six royal daughters we are, you know. 
Our motto " Do good, where'er you go." 



1 8 A king's daughter. 

{Chorus.) Gayly we laugh and sing. Etc. 

Six little caps on six little heads. 

The King's Daughters. 
We love to help with needles and threads. 

The King's Daughters. 
Three cheers for the maids with caps and gowns, 
Three cheers for the girls in all the towns, 
Who think of the poor in every land 
And give to each a helping hand. 

{Chorus.) Gayly we laugh and sing. Etc. 

(Girls at back of stage take off caps and gowns, ialkmg and 
laughing together.) 

(Nan enters?) 

Kitty. I am as hungry as a bear. 

Florenxe. So am I. 

Helen {seated at tea-table., serving tea', Nan passes cups). 
Why, Nan. you have forgotten the cake. 

Nan. I think not. It was there early in the afternoon. 

Helen. More of Polly's mischief, I am sure. 

Polly {appears at window). Shouldn't wonder. It has gone, 
alas, to nourish the struggling lives of the five little Mullenses. I 
thought they ought to have something. It will be the glorious 
Fourth of July before those flannel skirts will be ready. 

Sallie. You are a born prophet, Polly. 

Helen. She is a born tease. 

Mabel. I wonder where my poetry is ? 

Helen {takes burnt paper from tea-table). What is this, Mab? 

M\\^¥.\^ {takes paper). My poetic effusion. Some one has been 
cruel enough to use it to hght the lamp. 

Polly. You called it a "pot-boiler," It has made a fine water- 
boiler. (Mabel rushes to window ; Polly disappears laughing.) 

Florence. I do hope we will have a fine day for our fair. Who 
will tell fortunes ? 

Sallie. I will, by palmistry. My imagination is vivid. What 
Idon't see, I shall invent. 

Mabel. If you don't find literary lines in my hand, I shall cease 
to write. 

Florence. There, Sallie! Here is a chance for you to do 
good to suflTering humanity. What you don't see, don't invent. 

Mabel {rises), I know I have talent. I feel it 

When my thoughts do upward soar, 
Away from brooks and grassy lea, 
Genius comes knocking at my door 
And whispers gently — 

Helen (;^r^j-^///j ^///). Have some tea. {Q\k\.s laugh .) 
Helen {laughing). Couldn't resist the temptation, Mab. It 
was too good an opportunity to lose. 



A KING S DAUGHTER. I9 



{Enter Nan with plate of cakes; passes it to GiRLS.) 

Helen. Isn't it mean ? All the new teachers at the high school 
(Nan starts ; Helen watches her) are strangers. (Nan drops 
plate.) Why, Nan, how awkward ! 

Nan {picks tip plate). I am very sorry. I felt dizzy for a 
moment. 

Helen. The committee have not made a single appointment in 
town. 

Kitty. Isn't that a shame? So many will be disappointed. 

Nan. Oh, there must be some mistake. They sm-ely could not 
be so unkind. 

Helen. Any one would think, to hear you talk, that it was of 
vital importance to you. 

Nan. Oh, no. I — I always feel deeply for the unsuccessful 
candidate. {Brushes hand across ifyes.) 

{Enter Polly.) 

Polly. I can't find your letter anywhere. Has any one seen 
a letter for Nan, which I dropped ? 

Yi'Ei^'E^ {takes up envelope from table). What is this? '. 

Polly. Give it to me. 

Helen. Not so fast, my dear. {Reads envelope; Aunt Clar- 
issa appears at door c.) " From one who desires to help the 
King's Daughters in their good work." 

Kitty. A fairy in disguise hovers near us. 

Aunt C. {comes down). What is it? 

Helen {taking tnoney from envelope). A ten-dollar bill. Who 
could have given it to us ? 

Sallie. Have you a rich aunt, Helen? 

Helen {laughs). Rich? Only so far as to have a wealth of 
relatives to live upon. 

(Aunt C. pained; turns away.) 

Polly. Don't go. Aunt Clarissa. Sit down and have a cup of 
tea. {Leads Aunt C. to chair near tea-table.) It isn't every 
family that is fortunate enough to have a dear old la'dy come and 
live with them. {Gives tea to Aunt C.) Helen Graham, I am 
ashamed of you. You may be a King's Daughter in name but 
not at heart. 

Helen. Excuse my sister, girls. She is fond of giving me a 
curtain lecture. Let's talk about the fair. 

Sallie. We must have, a candy table. Who will take charge 
of that ? 

Beth. * I will. We will have some home-made candies. I have 
fine receipts. 

Sallie. All right, Beth. {Writes on paper.) Down you go. 



20 A KING S DAUGHTER. 

Ruth. I shall be devoted to your corner, Beth. 
Florence. Does Tom like candy, Ruth ? 
Ruth. Some kinds. 
Mabel. Kisses ? (Girls laiigh.^ 
Florence. We must have a post-office. 

{During this conversation Polly tries to get a piece of cake; 
Helen will not give it to her.) 

{Enter Rebecca Spencer.) 

Rebecca. Having a cup of tea ? {No one speaks.)' Having a 
cup of tea? {Comes down to tea-table.) 

Polly {laughing). Not having, Miss Rebecca, but have had a 
cup of tea. Sorry you came too late. 

Helen. It took us so long to cut out the flannel. Miss Rebecca, 
we required more than one cufMo sustain us. 

Sallie. It was delicious tea. Just the kind you prefer, I am 
sure. 

Rebecca. I was walking by, and, being a creature of impulse, 
you know, thought I would look in upon you. 

Florence. You still thirst for something. This, you see, is 
the reward for doing good. Had you remained with us, it would 
have been your privilege to drink of the fountain which for the 
nonce cheers the despondent soul. 

Mabel {clasps hands). Hear, hear! 

Florence. No flowers, ladies. 

Polly {at window). Some one is coming down the street. 
No — yes, it is — 

Rebecca. The Deacon .? 

Polly. Yes ; with what a stately air he walks ! How eagerly 
he looks, now to the right, now to the left ! He must be expecting 
some one. 

Kitty. Why don't you run and meet him, Polly.'' He likes to 
talk with you. 

Polly. I will. {Makes for door.) 

Rebecca {holds her back). You will do nothing of the kind. I 
will meet the Deacon, and if I am too late here, I will have some 
tea at my own fireside, and in better company. 

Kitty. Shall you serve toast ? 

Rebecca {at door c. ) . Toasted what ? 

Kitty. Slippers. (Girls laugh; Miss Rebecca exit with 
dignity.) 

Polly. Give me a piece of cake, Helen. 

Helen. No, I will not. 

Polly. I will have a piece of your old cake, you see if I 
don't. {Exit.) 

Florence. The mystery does not seem to be solved about our 
gift of money. 



A KINGS DAUGHTER. 21 

Aunt C. I should not try to. The donor doubtless has good 
reasons for giving anonymously. 

Kitty. Perhaps it was you, Aunt Clarissa. 

Helen. Ha, ha, Kitty ! You don't know what you are talking 
about. 

Aunt C. {aside). You certainly do not. 

Sallie. It is too bad that Nan's letter should be lost. I don't 
believe she has so many, that she cares to lose one. 

Helen {carelessly). It will turn up in time. Such things 
always do. 

{E7iter Nan.) 

Nan. There is an old woman at the gate. She is asking for 
help. 

Aunt C. Here is an opportunity for the King's Daughters to 
show how much good they can do. 

Kitty. Do have her come in, Helen. It will be great fun. 

Sallie. I hope she won't hke cake. {Eating a piece.) This 
is too good to give away. 

Helen. Show her in, Nan. (Nan exit.) I haven't a doubt 
but she is some impostor. Now, girls, we must be very dignified. 

Kitty. Don't give her any of your poetry, Mab ; she wouldn't 
appreciate it. 

Sallie. I must have her picture. {Takes Kodak.) 

{Enter Nan leading Polly, who is dressed in long black cloaks 
black bonnet with veil over face.) 

Nan. I think she must be very deaf; she doesn't hear very 
well. {Seats her in chair, placed in c. of stage by Helen ; Girls 
grouped about her.) 

Aunt C. She must be very tired. 

Helen {to Polly). Have you travelled far ? 

Polly {disguises voice). What say? 

Helen {raising voice). Have you come from a distance? 

Polly. Oh, yes • I walked ten miles. 

Sallie. Poor old lady! 

Helen. Would you like a cup of tea? 

Polly. What say ? 

Helen. I shall need a new voice, if she remains here long. 
Would you like a cup of tea? 

Polly. Something stronger. (Girls look at one atiother with 
astonishmetit .) 

Aunt C. Well, I never! 

Helen. She cannot have anything stronger than coiTee. {To 
Polly.) Will you have some coffee ? 

Polly. Cup of coffee ? 

Helen. Yes. 

Vo\A.x {nods head). Yes, coffee. 



22 A KING S DAUGHTER. 

Helen. Nan, do j^et her a cup of coflfee. (Nan exit.^ 
Polly. I would like some cake. 
Florence. Well, I never ! 

(Helen offers cake, which Polly takes and eats.') 

Polly. I heerd tell how the king and his darters was a-stopping 
here. Thoui^ht Pd call. 

Kitty. Oh, this is a friendly call. (GIrls laugh.) 

Polly. Be you the girls 1 

Helen. Yes, there are six of us. 

Polly. Be they? I knew your father once. He and me was 
old friends. 

Florence (Japs forehead). Something wrong here. 

Kitty. Perhaps she is suffering from pent-up genius. Look 
out, Mab, it is dangerous, 

POLLY. Some more cake, please. (Girls look at one another, 
as Helen /^^j-i-^j- cake.) I thought Pd come and stop a spell. 

Helen. No, that is impossible. The house is full now. 

Aunt C. Yes, with poor relations. (Aunt C. afid Helen 
exchange glances ; both spiteful.) 

{Enter Mrs. Graham.) 

Mrs. G. What is all this commotion ? 

Helen. An old lady. She seems to have lost her way. (Nan 
enters with coffee.) 

Mrs. G. {comes down; looks at Polly; puts on glasses). It 
seems to me that I have seen that cloak before. {Looks more 
closely.) Surely, I know that bonnet. Yes, and this is my veil. 
{Raises veil ; Polly discovered laughitig.) 

Helen. Polly Graham ! 

Polly {holds tip cake). It is good cake, Helen. 

{Tableau: Polly in c. of stage, eating cake and laughing at 
Helen; Nan ^Z her L., offering cup of coffee ; Aunt Clarissa 
standing by tea-table, hands raised in astonish?nent ; Girls grouped 
about Polly laughiiig; Sallie takes Voiam'^ picture.) 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 23 



ACT II. 



IN HIS NAME.' 



Scene. — Same as in Act I. Time, two days later. Tables on 
either side of the roojn with framework of wood above them. 
Flower-booth at back, c. of stage. Frainework of tables draped. 
The King's Daughter'' s cross made of silver paper above each 
table. Helen discovered sittifig upon top of steps ^ arranging 
drapery and cross of table down R. ; Kitty standi?ig upon chair 
before table down l., hanging fancy articles upon wire above 
table ; Girls moving about, arrafiging tables. As curtain is 
raised, all singing chorus, " Gayly we laugh and sing,''"' etc. 

Kitty. Helen dear, do deign to look down from your lofty 
perch and tell me how this array of infants' sacks strikes your artis- 
tic eye. 

Helen. Lovely, Kitty! It is a tempting display. Any baby in 
town, that doesn't possess one of those sacks, will raise its voice 
in protest. 

Sallie. If you have any regard for the peace and happiness of 
my family, don't let our baby see one of them. He protests enough 
as it is. 

Florence. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sallie Brown- 
ing, to talk so about that small brother of yours. He is a dear. 
What shall we do with the money we make at this sale ? I wish 
we could found an institution that would live forever. 

Beth {comes down with toy horses). My vote would be a hos- 
pital for maimed and invalid horses. 

Sallie. Yes, and in ten days that worthy representative which 
you hold in your hand, after being in the possession of some small 
boy, would be crippled for hfe and ready to join your ranks. 

Helen. I think it would be fine to do great things and make 
your mark in the world. 

{Enter Polly, c, with large piece of cardboard, upon which is 
partially printed " The King's Daughters.'''' Polly wears long- 
sleeved aprony which is covered with black paint j paint upon hatuis 
and face.) 

Polly. Well, I've made mine. 

Helen. Why, Polly Graham ! You are paint from head to 
foot. 

Polly. Don't you suppose I know it ? How would you have 
me paint, from foot to head? I have been working all the morning 
on the old thing, and there is more paint on me than there is on 
the card. 



24 A KING S DAUGHTER. 

Kitty. We shall put you under a glass case and label you '' Our 
black diamond." 

Polly {shaking steps upon which Helen is seated). Come 
down and help me, Helen. I shall never get the old thing done. 

Helen. Stop shaking these steps. If you are not careful I 
shall fall and make my mark on your head. 

Polly. It wouldn't be the first time you had tried to sit upon 
me. 

Kitty {arm aboiit Polly). Oh, come, Polly, no pouts to-day. 
I will help you. You are getting on finely. 

Polly {holds out apron). You mean my apron is. (Polly 
and Kitty exeunt.) 

Helen. What shall we have for a post-office ? 

Florence. Nan is lookins; for something. Mab is writing the 
letters. (Girls laugh outside.) There she is now. From the 
laughter, I should judge they are having great sport. 

{Enter Mabel aw^Ruth, laughing.) 

Ruth. Oh, girls, such fun! If Rebecca Spencer does not 
think herself devotedly loved, it won't be Mab's fault. 

Helen. Do read it to us. 

Ruth. Yes, it is too good to keep. 

Mabel. Only upon one condition. That you each promise to 
make me your private secretary in all matters of love. 

Girls, Oh, yes ! 

Mabel {reads). " Dear Madam, — Does not your fluttering heart 
tell you that I am near.?" {Speaks.) How is that.-* 

Girls. Good ! Go on. 

Mabel {reads). ''As you wander in the woodland, does not the 
opening bud, the sweet carolling bird tell you that I love you ?" 
{Speaks.) Carolling bird is good, if I did write it. {Reads.) "Alas! 
I know that for years you have loved another, yet the hope burns 
in my breast" — 

Florence. I hope it won't cause spontaneous combustion. 

Mabel {reads). "That as he has not the courage to speak, you 
will at least consider this tender offer, which comes from the depths 
of my yearning heart. 

Yours, until death, 

Romeo." 

Helen. Ha, ha, Mab ! That is immense. 

Florence. What about the Deacon } 

Mabel. I have one for him as well. {Reads.) "* Dear Sir, — 
My natural modesty and delicacy prompt me to write this letter. 
I know that you love and have loved for years Miss Rebecca Spen- 
cer of this town. Yet why this long silence ? I will wait no lonoer. 
I, too, love this fair maiden, and have told her of my love. Bid 
farewell to your fondest hopes. I now await the answer of one 
who, with her grace and beauty, for me turns darkness into light, 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 2$ 

sadness into joy. Adieu, and think of me as one who will possess 
the heart and hand of the woman, who, but for want of courage, 
might have been yours. From one that loves Rebecca." 

Helen. Bravo! I am proud of you, Mab. 

Mabel. We must address them. 

(Florence briiigs small table to front of stage] one of the girls 
brings writing-materials . ) 

Mabel {seated writing) . They tell me that my writing is mas- 
culine enough. 

Sallie. You must not write them both alike. 

Mabel. The angular style will do for one. 

^MAAF. {looking over her shoulder). Why, Mab ! You are only 
making diagonal lines. 

Mabel. Well, Sallie Browning! If your eyes haven't been ed- 
ucated to the angular style of handwriting, you had better give up 
charity work and devote the time to your education. 

Sallie. But I can't read it. 

Mabel. That is all right. Only one of the characteristics of 
the angular hand. 

{Rises ; Girls remove tables ; enter Nan with box with compart- 
metits for letter box.) 

Nan. Will this do .? 

P'lorence. Just the thing. Where shall we have it, girls? 

Sallie {at table back of stage). This is a good place. (Nan 
places box upon it.) 

Mabel. We will put these letters in the box. {Pnts letters in 
post-office.) 

Nan {coming down to table l). How are you getting on ? Can 
I help you? 

Florence {who is winding cheese-cloth around legs of table., 
which is afterward to be covered by falling drapery). Yes, I wish 
you would help me here. 

Nan. Certainly. {Helps her.) This leg is wet with glue ; woe 
unto the one that makes a resting place of it. 

Florence. We had better engage Polly to paint a sign, " Look 
out for glue." 

Helen. I have finished using the steps, Nan. You may take 
them away. (Nan does not answer.) Did you hear, Nan? 

Nan. Yes ; but I am busy at present. 

(Polly enters.) 

Helen. No matter if you are. When I tell you to do anything, 
I expect it done at once. 

Polly. Oh, you do, Miss Graham ! Nan, don't you stir one 
step. Let Helen wait upon herself (Nan makes no answer., but 
goes, towards steps ; Polly stands in front of her.) Nan Graham, 
if you touch those steps, I will never forgive you. 

Nan {puts her gently aside., takes lip steps). Yes, Polly, you 



25 A king's daughter. 

will. Remember, I know my duty better than you. {Arm about 
Polly, draws her down io front of stage. ) And be patient . Do not 
forget what the future may have in store for me. {Exit L., with 
steps S) 

Polly. I hope the time will come, Helen Graham, when you 
will have to ask Nan's pardon on bended knee. {Throws herself 
upon floor a7id leans against le^ of table wet with glue.) 

Florence. Oh, Polly ! That is all — 

Helen {interrupts her j aside). Let her find it out for herself 
It will force her to be quiet for a few moments, at least. 

{Enter Kitty ; wears apron covered with four.) 

Kitty. Just wait until you see my cake. It will make you die 
with envy. 

Helen. If we don't die from its heaviness, you may have all the 
glory. Do tell us how you made it ? 

Kitty. First I sifted my flour. 

Florence {touches her apron). Yes, I should say that you 
did. 

Kitty. I beat the yolks and whites of the eggs separately. 
Added sugar, salt, baking powder, and milk. I tell you, girls, it will 
melt in your mouth. 

Florence. Mab must write a sonnet upon your success. 

(Mabel runs on.) 

Mabel. What is the matter with your cake, Kitty ? 

Kitty. Matter ? What do you mean ? 

Mabel. It is running through the cracks of the oven door. It 
is melting. 

Kitty. Oh, dear — it did look beautifully. 

Helen. Do you think that you forgot anything ? 

Mabel. You have left the flour on the kitchen table. 

Kitty. Some one catch me. {Sinks into Florence's arms.) 
I forgot the flour. (Girls laugh.) 

Mabel. Alas ! poor Katherine ; to have your dreams of glory 
thus melt away ! 

Kitty. Mrs. Graham will never forgive me ; her floor will be a 
sight. Come, girls, and help me arrest the erratic wanderings of 
my emotional cake. (Girls rush to door r. and exeunt except 
Florence ; she reaches door as Polly speaks.) 

Polly. Do wait for me. {Attempts to rise ; appears to be held 
by glue.) Something holds me here. 

Florence. I should say so. That cheese-cloth has just been 
wet with glue. You are held fast, my pretty Polly. 

Polly. For mercy sakes, don't speak to me as though I were 
a parrot. Florence Baldwin ! You will be oflfering me a cracker 
next. Do help me out of this. 

Florence. No, I think you had better take a little rest. ( Winds 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 2/ 

cheese-cloth about her ; covers her co77tpietely .^ Thus do I hold you 
prisoner. {Ritns off laughing.) 

Polly. I call that mean. {Tries to extricate herself.) Well, 
I can take a nap anyway. {Remains quiet.) 

{Enter Mrs. Graham.) 

Mrs. G. That kitchen floor is a sight. Cake dough from one 
door to another. I am afraid I shall regret having the sale here. 
My house and nerves will be worthy objects upon which to be- 
stow this day's receipts. The stove looks dejected with so many 
failures. Something is burning. I can smell it. It is the candy. 
That will be ruined as well. {Meets Helen at door r.) Helen, 
that candy will be spoiled. 

Helen. No, it won't. SalHe only tipped the kettle and lost half 
of it. 

Mrs. G. My house will be ruined. 

Helen. No, it won't, mother dear. {Puts ar?H about her.) 
Remember, it is for sweet charity. I have a secret to tell you. 

Mrs. G. a secret ? 

Helen {puts finger to lips and looks cautiously about ; does not 
see Fo'LL.y who is hidden by the drapery) . I found a letter of Nan's 
the other day. It was from the school committee. (Polly 
stirs.) 

Mrs. G. How do you know ? 

Helen. I overheard Nan telling Aunt Clarissa that she was 
expecting one. I have kept the letter. 

Mrs. G. {catches her by ami). Helen Graham! I am ashamed of 
you. You know better than to do such a thing. (Polly shows 
that she is listening^) 

Helen. Wait, until I tell you. Unknown to us. Nan has passed 
the examinations and has received an appointment as teacher. 
A secret plotting going on beneath our very eyes. I intend to give 
the letter to Nan when it is too late for the appointment this year. 
She can try again next, but not until she has had time to learn that 
it is not wise to deceive those who have given her a home, food, 
and shelter. 

Mrs. G. I do not approve of this. You should have consulted 
me at once. If Nan wishes to teach school, I shall not stand in 
her way. I should be very glad to be free from supporting her. 

Helen. Yes, but what right has she to do such a thing without 
asking your consent .'' 

Mrs. G. I should herald such good fortune with delight. Where 
is the letter ? 

Helen. In the pocket of the gown I wore on Wednesday. 

Mrs. G. Get it for me at once. 

Helen. I will after the sale is over. {Takes her by ar?n.) 
Come with me now and see how the candy is progressing. 

Mrs. G. But, Helen — 



28 A king's daughter. 

Helen. I smell it burning. Come. (^Hurries Mrs. G. out of 
room.) 

Polly {after making several unsuccessful attempts^ unwinds the 
drapery). Well, I never! A dynamite explosion is nothing in 
comparison to what I have heard. My sister Helen to do such a 
thing! It can't be possible. {Finally succeeds in freeing herself 
from the table-, rises.) A novel way, lam sure, of being concealed 
to discover a secret. It is quite like a story. I will make it more 
so. A thrilling sequel. I will find the letter and tell Nan what 
Helen has done. There will be fireworks, and I will be in it. 
{Makes for door C. ; stops, comes dozvtt again.) I don't know about 
that. If Helen has done wrong, it won't help matters to tell Nan 
of it. She is my sister, and I should shield her. That is my idea 
of a King's Daughter. I will make Nan think that I found it in 
my pocket after all. {Exit c.) 

{Enter Beth Hamlin with vases and flowers, which she arranges 
upon flower table ; Sallie a7id Kitty b7ing in plates of candy.) 

Sally. It is fortunate, Kitty, that we have had a generous 
donation of cake and candy. Your cake was a failure, and half of 
the candy served as a burnt offering upon the fire. (Girls laugh.) 

{Enter Mabel with numerous envelopes.) 

Mabel. There — a letter for each of us. They will serve as a 
blind to Miss Rebecca and the Deacon. {Puts them in letter-box ', 
at door C.) Here comes Miss Rebecca now. Speak of the angels — 

{Enter Miss Rebecca.) 

Rebecca. Good-afternoon, girls. How is the good work pro- 
gressing ? 

Sallie. Finely. We only need your generous patronage to set 
the wheel in motion. 

Rebecca {at table k.; uses loignette). How perfectly fascinat- 
ing ! Everything is in such perfect taste. I really shouldn't know 
which to choose. 

Kitty. We can help you. {Throws pink scarf around Miss 
R.'s neck.) Pink is so becoming. It gives a peach-like glow to your 
delicate skin. {Looks at Girls, w//^ laugh behind Miss R.'s back.) 

Rebecca {very nnich pleased). Do you think so ? My friends 
have always admired me in pink. 

Kitty. I heard Deacon Starr say only the other day to my 
mother that if some people only knew how well they looked in pink, 
they would wear it always. 

Rebecca. I will take this. How much ? 

Kitty. Two dollars. 

Rebecca. Isn't that rather high ? 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 29 

Kitty {with meaning). Not when it is becoming, Miss Re- 
becca. {Wraps scarf in paper.) 

Sally {draws Mlss Rebecca to opposite table). You must 
not be partial, Miss Rebecca, You will buy this comfortable pillow. 
{Takes slumber pillow from table.) It will be just the thing for 
your easy-chair. 

Rebecca. I never use one. I always sit erect. 

Sallie. But how nice, when some one happens in for acoseychat. 

Rebecca. It is not necessary for any of my friends to make a 
lounging place of my sitting-room. 

Sallie. Not even the Deacon ? 

Rebecca (//^j-/^«/<?^). Well, — I — 

Sallie. How becoming this would be to his beautiful iron gray 
hair ! I can see the Deacon's curls resting upon it now. 

Rebecca {takes pillow quickly). Where? 

Sallie {laughing) . "In my mind's eye," Miss Rebecca. (Girls 
la7igh.) 

Rebecca. Oh, you silly girls! {Sighs.) I suppose I ought to 
buy it. Being a creature of impulse, 1 will. Where is your soda 
fountain ? 

{Enter Florence.) 

Kitty. You are just in time, Florence. Miss Rebecca is ask- 
ing for the soda fountain. She still thirsts for something. 

Florence. The fountain is ready in the other room. {Bows 
profoundly.) Miss Rebecca, I shall be proud to draw for you the 
first glass of our refreshing beverage. {Exeunt Miss R. and 
Florence.) 

Kitty. This is too jolly for anything. 

Mabel. We must try the post-office next. It grows wildly 
exciting. The plot thickens. {N'oise heard outside.) What can 
be the matter ? 

(Florence and Miss Rebecca rush on followed by Helen ; all 
laughing, their faces covered with foam.) 

Florence. That was a surprise party. 

Helen {at door l.). Nan, bring a towel quick. 

Rebecca. That is an entirely new way of taking soda — ex- 
ternally. 

{Enter Nan with towels ; helps thejn to remove the foam.) 

Kitty. How did it happen ? 

Florence. I proceeded with flourishes and all sort of things 
to turn on the soda. Something gave way, — a screw, I guess, — 
and behold the result. 

Kitty. Miss Rebecca can truly say, after you, the deluge. 



away. 







{Enter Ruth.) 


Ruth. 
Girls. 


Oh, girls ! 
Oh, my ! 


: The soda is runnin: 
{All exeunt.) 



30 A king's daughter. 

Rebecca. Thank you, Nan. You always come to the rescue. 

Nan. I do not think it has done any harm. Sorry that you 
lost your soda. 

Rebecca. I can live without that. {Looks cautiously abont^ 
Have you heard from the school committee .'* 

Nan {astonished). How did you know that I expected to hear 
from them .? 

Rebecca. Deacon Starr told me that you had passed the ex- 
aminations successfully. 

Nan {clasps her hands eagerly). Then, I shall receive an 
appointment ? 

Rebecca. I don't know about that, but, being a creature of 
impulse, you know, I told the Deacon that if you didn't have one, 
I would never for<^ive him. 

Nan {takes Miss R.'s hand). I can never thank you enough 
for your kindly interest. 

{Enter the Girls.) 

Helen. Sorry, Miss Rebecca, but there isn't a drop of soda 
left. Mab, you might write some verses, not upon the flowing 
bowl, but the flowing soda. 

Mabel. I will, and devote a few lines to Kitty's cake. That 
was flowing too. {Gikls laitgh.) Have you visited the post-office, 
Miss Rebecca? 

Rebecca. No. Have you any mail for me ? 

Kitty {at box). Yes ; here is one. It will cost you five cents 
to receive it. 

Rebecca {takes money from purse). This fair will prove a 
mid-day robbery. {Gives money to Kitty. ii>ho gives her letter j 
Girls watch her eagerly; she comes down to front of stage.) I 
wonder from whom it can be. The handwriting is not familiar. 
Cannot imagine who wrote it. {Sits in chair; looks at envelope; 
Girls show signs of impatience.) 

Helen. Why don't you open it ? 

Rebecca. Oh, I often sit for hours- wondering from whom it 
can be. (Girls assume dejected air.) The uncertainty is so de- 
licious. 

Mabel {takes letter from box). Here is one for Deacon Starr 
also. The handwriting looks like a woman's. 

Rebecca {aside) . Some unknown female writing to the Deacon .? 
{Tears open her letter ; Girls watch her eaoerly ; AIiss R. reads.) 
Oh. I shall faint. The shock is too great for my nerves. 

Kitty. Is it sorrow. Miss Rebecca ? 

Rebecca. Sorrow! {With ecstasy.) It is joy, my dear girl, 
joy. 

Kitty. Do tell us, that we may share it with you. 

Rebecca {rises). Share it with you 1 You know not what you 
ask. Be patient, and when you have reached jny years of discre- 



A KINGS DAUGHTER. 31 

tion, this happiness may come to you- (Girls convulsed; aside.) 
My impulse is to show this to the Deacon at once. No, I will first 
see this fond lover. Ah, Romeo, that day in the woods, 1 did not 
call your name in vain. {Goes toward door c.) 

Mabel. This letter for the Deacon. 

Rebecca. I will take it to him. {Takes letter.) 

Mabel. Won't it be too much trouble ? 

Rebecca. Yes, it will be a trouble, but I am willing to sacrifice 
myself. {Aside.) My heart is beating like an imprisoned bird. 
Courage, Rebecca. {Exit.) • 

•Kitty. She has forgotten the pink scarf. 

Sallie. And the pillow. {Bot/i girls rush to door c, and call 
''Miss Rebecca.'^) 

Kitty. She has gone. I must say that our little scheme for 
bringing about a proposal from the Deacon will work mischief or a 
happy result. 

Sallie. It is a pity we havn't more laggards in love to help in 
the good cause. {Arm about Ruth.) Perhaps, we could help 
Tom Mason a httle. 

Ruth. No, thank you, Sally. I can do all the helping that is 
necessary in that direction . 

Kitty. That is true, Ruth. The grass won't grow under your 
feet. 

Ruth {makes deep courtesy). Only long enough to make hay, 
while the sun shines. (Girls laugh.) 

Helen. I am anxious about the success of the loan collection 
we are to give this evening. Don't you think that we had better 
rehearse the pictures ? 

Kitty. It will be such a bother to dress for them. 

Florence. Oh, no it won't. Let's do it. 

Kitty. All right, and while we are dressing, Nan can get the 
room ready. 

{Enter Polly.) 

Sallie. Hallo ! Polly, where have you been ? 

Polly. Looking for a letter, which I lost. 

Helen. Did you find it ? 

Polly {looks at Helen with jneaning). Yes; some one had 
taken it — by mistake. 

Helen. What do you mean, Polly Graham.? {Takes her by 
arm.) 

Polly {throwing off Helen's hand). Oh, nothing. {Goes up 
stage.) 

Helen {aside). It can't be Nan's letter. No one knows where 
it is. 

Florence. How did you like the arrangement for a seat, Polly ? 
You seemed to have a clinging fondness for it. {Laughs.) 

Polly. Yes, and I always shall. If you had not made me 
prisoner, I never should have found — 



32 A KING S DAUGHTER. 

Florence. What? 

Polly. How — much I liked it. 

Helen. You two seem to be having all the fun to yourselves. 

Florence. Why, you remember when Polly threw herself down 
against the table, which was wet with glue. 

Helen. Yes. 

Florence. Well, when we all rushed out to help Kitty with 
her cake, Polly was left behind. Just for fun I wrapped her so 
completely in the cheese-cloth, that she might have listened to all 
the secreis (Helen sta?'ts) in the world, without any one being the 
wiser. 

Helen {aside to Polly). And you heard? 

Polly. Yes. 

Helen. Where is the letter? 

Polly. Out of your reach, my dear. 

Helen. Don't be silly, Polly. I only did it for 'fun. 

Polly. And I am only keeping it for fun. 

Helen. Nonsense ! Come on, girls, we must get ready. Polly, 
will you find Nan and tell her to get the room ready for the pictures? 

Polly. Yes. (Girls exeunt.') Now, how shall I give that let- 
ter to Nan? {Thinks a moment.') I have it. {Hatids in pocket.) 
A hole in my dress. {Reaches down until hand touches hem of 
skirt.) I will pretend I found it here. {Slips letter in ; goes up 
stage and looks ont of window .) 

{Enter Nan and Auky Clarissa.) 

Aunt C. It does seem strange that you have not heard. Have 
you seen Miss Grant ? 

Nan. Yes ; and she is broken hearted. Her mother and the 
younger children depend upon her for support, and she will now be 
obliged to leave her home and seek a position elsewhere. 

Aunt C. {takes purse from pocket). Let me give them some- 
thing. 

Nan. No indeed. That would not be right, when you have 
none to spare yourself. 

Aunt C. You are riglit. {Sits in chair ; assu7nes an irritated 
air.) You need not remind me of my poverty. 

Nan. Oh, Aunt Clarissa! That is unkind. You know I would 
not do such a thing. 

Aunt C. It is hard enough to be forced to live without money 
without being constantly reminded of it. {Pretends to weep.) It 
is dreadful to live with relatives who do not care for you. 

Nan {kneels beside her). Don't cry, Aunt Clarissa. Perhaps 
the time will come when you can live with me. (Aunt C. covers 
the side office which is turned toward Nan, but shows to audience 
that she is listening i7itently and is pleased.) Let me picture 
a new life for both of us. {Soft music.) If I secure my appoint- 
ment as teacher, we will have a cosey home together. Just large 



A king's daughter. 33 

enough for us. Oh, we must not forget Polly. She will always 
be welcome. In the summer, honeysuckle and wood-vine will 
twine itself about our door and we will have our supper in the gar- 
den. {Ann about k.\5^i: Q.) Won't that be lovely ? Then in the 
winter, when I return from school, I will see your face at the win- 
dow watching for me, and within a cheerful fire upon the hearth. 
You would be happy then, Aunt Clarissa? 

Aunt C. Why would you do all this for me? I am cross and 
disagreeable, and can give you nothing in return. 

Nan {both rise). Because you are alone in the world, as I am. 
I don't think that you are cross at heart ; your trouble has made 
you so. As for giving me anything, only love me and I will ask no 
other reward. 

Aunt C. Don't talk of this any more. I am tired. 

Polly {comes down) . Hallo, Nan ! I have been looking for 
you. The girls wish to rehearse for the pictures, and would like to 
have you get the room ready. 

Nan. Certainly. Aunt Clarissa shall see them. {Places chair 
down extreme R. of statue.) 

Polly. Yes, she shall be audience. (Aunt C. sits in chair; 
wire should he drawn above half-way up the stage, upon which are 
curtains, which until needed are drawniclosely back at side of stage. 
Nan and Polly bring from R. entrajice a draped easel, upon 
which is large gilt frame. Durifi^ this Polly is very nervous 
and 7nakes several attempts to speak.) 

Nan. Why, Polly ! How nervous you are ! What is the 
matter? 

Polly. Oh, nothing. {Ptits hand in pocket.) Dear me ! I 
always have a rip in my dress. 

Nan {lajtghing). I am afraid you do. 

Polly. I expect I shall find a long lost treasure, sometime. 

Nan {kneeling beside her and feeling of hem of skirt). It will 
be as wonderful as Pandora's box. Why, here is something. It 
feels like a letter. Oh, Polly, perhaps — 

Polly {takes letter out). It is. Well, I never! 

Nan {taking it). It has been opened. 
■ Polly. Has it? Oh, I remember. I noticed when they gave 
it to me at the post-office that it was not closely sealed. Rubbing 
against my pocket must have unfastened it. 

Nan {who has been reading letter). Aunt Clarissa, let me 
read this to you. {Reads.) " Dear Miss Graham : I am pleased to 
inform you that we have an appointment for you as teacher." 
{Speaks.) Isn't that too lovely for anything ? Now, Aunt Clar- 
issa, we will have that cottage. 

Polly. What cottage ? 

Nan. The one that Aunt Clarissa and I are to have. 

Polly. If you have a cottage, I shall be '* in it." 

Nan. I should hope so. {Reads.) " We will give you the posi- 
tion filled by Miss Grant." {Dazed, puts hand to her head.) I 
don't understand. 



34 A KING S DAUGHTER. 

Polly. I do. Just because Deacon Starr is interested in Miss 
Rebecca and slie likes you, he has persuaded the committee to give 
you Miss Grant's class. 

Nan. But I could never take it from her; and yet — it means 
so much to me. 

Aunt C. Why should you sacrifice yourself for Miss Grant ? 
She is nothing to you. 

Nan. She has more at stake than I have ; the support of her 
motiier and sisters. I only lose my freedom and independence. 

Aunt C. Think, Nan, how much that means to you. 

Nan. Don't tempt me, Aunt Clarissa. It has been my dream, 
waking and sleeping. What shall I do ? 

Polly. You might speak to the school committee. 

Nan. I will write to them at once. {Writes at small table back 
of sta^e.^ 

Aunt C. {aside). This will be a test of her strength and courage. 
Will she disappoint me ? 

{Enter Miss Rebecca.) 

Rebecca. I am all excitement. I do believe that the Deacon 
is jealous. I watched him read his letter and heard him say — 
"Some one in love with my Rebecca." Who knows, after these 
weary years of waiting — 

Polly. You forgot something. {Gives parcels to her.) 

Rebixca. Yes, I came back for them. {Laughs embarrassedly.) 
I thought that the Deacon might call this evening, and, if so, he 
would enjoy resting his head upon this lovely cushion. 

Polly. And shall you wear the pink scarf, Miss Rebecca.? 

Rebecca {taps her playfully with lorgnette). Oh, you silly 
child ! 

Nan {comes doiun). I have written to Deacon Starr. Miss 
Rebecca, will you do me a favor .'' You know the Deacon so 
well. 

Rebecca. Yes, I suppose I do. 

Nan. He has given me Miss Grant's position. Won't you ask 
him to give me another? 

Rebecca. Yes, I will ; but you know school committees do 
not like to change their decisions. 

Nan. But you have so much influence with him. 

Rebecca {laughs coquettishly). Well, I will try. {Aside.) 
I wonder if my Romeo hovers near. {Exit.) 

Aunt C. And if they refuse to make this change? 

Nan. I dare not think of what would be my duty. {Stafids 
leaning against door c. ; rests hcadiipon arfn ; Enter Helen, Sal- 
lie, and FhORK^CE from L., Mrs. Graham from r.) 

Sallie. You are just in time, Mrs. Graham ; we are to rehearse 
the pictures. 

Mrs. G. I shall expect a reserved seat in the orchestra. 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 35 

Helen. And you shall have it. (^Places chair extre7ne L. of 
stage; both Mrs. G. ^2;;^Aunt C. have needU-woi^k or knitting.') 
Now, Nan, you may arrange the curtains. (Nan comes down and 
draws cicr tains in front of easel ; she stands at ojie side and draws 
curtains as pictures are ready. Helen stands by Mrs. G. and 
announces the^n.) 

Helen. AH ready? 

KiTTV (^ from behind curtain). Yes. 

{Give six representations; the Girls each dressed to represent some 
ivell-known picture. Each one stands behind the frame in turn 
arid the curtains are only drawn to the sides of the fratne. All 
the Girls should be ready so that one can follow the other without 
waits. Soft music. After the sixth., Florence puts her head out 
between the curtains. If difficult to do on account of change of 
costume, extra girls can be introduced for the pictures.) 

Florence. Wait a moment. We have two more ; perfect gems 
of art. 

Helen. Hurry, then. Our audience will get tired. 

Aunt C. I could look at pictures all night. 

Mrs. G. So could I. The fair will prove a success. 

(Sallie enters from behind curtain with Kodak.) 

Sallie. I don't mean to lose these. 

Yeorence {inside). Don't laugh, Kitty. Ready. (Nan draws 
curtains ; discloses Kitty /// frame., her face and apron covered 
with flour.) 

Florence. The flour [Flower] of the family. 

Helen {applauds). Good ! You put so much flour on your- 
self, Kitty, you will soon be the staff of life for your family. 
(Kitty laughs ; Nan draws curtaifis after Sallie snaps Kodak.) 

Sallie. We ought to have the Deacon and Miss Rebecca in 
the picture together ; we could call it " At last." 

Florence. Ready. (Nan draws curtain ; Polly is discovered 
behind frame covered as before with black paint.) Our artist. 
{All applaud; Sallie takes picture; Nan draws curtaiti to side 
of stage ; the Girls help to remove easel.) 

Florence. Don't think that we will give the last two to the 
promiscuous public ; they might not appreciate them. (Girls 
exeunt except Nan and Polly.) 

{Enter Miss Rebecca.) 

Rebecca. A note for you, Miss Nan. 
Nan {takes it eagerly). From the Deacon ? 
Rebecca. Yes. 

Nan {reads 7iote). What shall I do? There is no other posi- 
tion. The Deacon says that if I wish, I can give mine to Miss 



36 A king's daughter. 

Grant. Oh, I can't do that. (^Hesitates; Aunt C. watches her.) 
I will. 

Rebecca. Keep it yourself. Let Miss Grant take care of 
herself. 

Nan. No, it would not be right. I appreciate your kindness 
and that of Deacon Starr, but I cannot take the bread and butter 
from her family. (PVri/es at table.) 

Mrs. G. What is all this about ? (Helen euiers.) 

Polly. The school committee have given Miss Grant's posi- 
tion to Nan. 

Mrs. G. I do not see why there should be so much talk about 
it. It will be a very easy thing to accept. 

Nan {comes down with note). But I cannot. 

Mrs. G. Cannot! Why not, pray ? 

Nan.' I would be taking away the only support of the Grant 
family. It would cause a separation. As for me, I will wait 
another year. 

Mrs. G. Indeed! You will do nothing of the kind. I have 
supported you, given you a home all these years, and now that you 
have an opportunity of lifting the burden from my shoulders and 
taking care of yourself, you throw it aside, as though it were of no 
consequence. 

Nan. I do appreciate all you have done for me, Aunt Graham, 
and regret that I must still be a burden to you. I had hoped that, 
by making myself useful, I had in a measure repaid your kindness. 

Polly. And so you have. Nan. You have done everything for 
us. {Crosses to her.) 

Nan. I will not take the position from Miss Grant. {Holds 
out letter to Miss Rebecca.) Here is my answer, Miss Rebecca. 

Helen {steps forward and takes letter; holds it behind her). 
You show your gratitude in a wonderful way. 

Nan {excited). Be careful what you say, Helen Graham. You 
have thought because I was poor and dependent upon your mother's 
bounty, that I had no hopes, no ambitions beyond the privilege of 
answering to your beck and call. I have borne your taunts and 
slurs with submission. I will, no longer. Give me that letter. 
(Polly leaves her and sta7ids behind Helen.) 

Helen. No, I will not. I cannot aid you in taking such a 
foolish step. 

Polly {sfiatches letter). But I will. {Gives it to Miss Rebecca.) 

Helen. Polly, give me that letter. 

Polly. Excuse me, Helen. It isn't mine to give. 

Rebecca. You shall have an answer at once. You have always 
been kind to me, Miss Nan.. {Holds out hand, which Nan takes.) 
If you need a friend, I am yours to command. {Exit.) 

Aunt C. Nan, leave us for a few moments. I wish to see your 
aunt alone. (Nan and Polly exeunt.) 

Helen. Am I included in this private interview? 

Aunt C. You are not. I wish to speak with your mother. 



A KINGS DAUGHTER. 3/ 

Helen {with sarcas?n; makes mock courtesy). I am sure my 
mother appreciates the honor. {Exit laughing.) 

Aunt C. Eleanor Graham, how have you brought up your 
daughter? why have you allowed her lo sneer at those who have 
less'of these worldly goods than herself? 

Mrs. G. Was it for the purpose of criticising me that you have 
requested this interview? If so, you must excuse me, as my time 
is valuable. 

Aunt C. I wish to speak of Nan. Does it ever occur to you 
that it might have been j^/^r daughter who had been left to the care 
and charity of her relatives ? Are you treating Nan as you would 
wish your daughter to be done by ? 

Mrs. G. She has had a home, plenty to eat and to wear. What 
more would you expect of me ? 

Aunt C. Enough love and thoughtful care, that her one thought 
and ambition would not be to leave the roof that has sheltered her. 
Young gjrls meet here, — call themselves " The King's Daughters." 
Their mission is to do good. Helen sews for the poor, gives food 
to the hungry " in His name," yet beneath your own roof you permit 
one to live a life of starvation. 

Mrs. G. {rises). " Starvation ! " You use rather strong words, 
Aunt Clarissa. 

Aunt C. {rises). Because I mean them. You let Nan starve: 
her heart go hungry for love and affection. Helen treats her 
shamefully, yet she calls herself a King's Daughter. Let Nan do 
as she will with this appointment; she has no money with which 
to help the needy, yet permit her to make this sacrifxce, which 
would mean more to her than the giving of money would to you. 

Mrs. G. I will do nothing of the kind. She shall not throw 
aside such an opportunity. She will recognize my authority. 

Aunt C. Have a care, Eleanor Graham ; mark what I say. It 
you persist in this tyranny, the time will come when you will regret 
it with your whole heart. 

Mrs. G. You seem to take a great interest in this niece of ours. 
It is a pity you cannot bequeath to her a fortune. 

Aunt C. {at door c). It is a pity; but she shall have all that 
is mine to give — love and devotion. {Exit.) 

Mrs. G. {laughing) . Wiiat a stir over a small matter ! I only 
wish my authority to be obeyed. Nan must not think that she can 
have her own way in such ^ matter. I will help the Grants. There 
is no need of making a tragedy of this. To hear Aunt Clarissa, 
one would think that I was committing some crime. {Exit.) 

{Enter Girls.) 

■ Kitty. Only one hour more and the doors will be open to the 
surging populace without. 

Florence. Did Polly finish her artistic effort ? 

Kitty. Not quite. The paint gave out. She put too much on 
her face and hands. 



38 A king's daughter. 

Florence. She must have true genius, then. Where is 
Sallie? She was to take our picture. 

{Enter Sallie with Kodak.) 

Sallie. Who calls .^ 

Kitty. We await your coming, fair maiden. We would have 
you immortalize our beautiful features. 

Sallie. All right ; group yourselves together. 

Kitty. We couldn't very well group ourselves apart, could 
we .'* 

Sallie. Kittie, if you are so brilliant, the atmosphere around 
you will be too dazzling, and you will spoil the picture. 

{Enter Polly.) 

Polly. Oh, wait for me. 

Sallie. Come on. my cherub. There is always room for you. 
{Guilds form in group at back of stage ; Sallie arranges them.) 

Sallie. Beth, stop giggling. Ruth, don't have that tragic air. 

Kitty. She is thinking of Tom. {Sighs.) Wish I had a 
Tom. 

Sallie. You won't even have a picture, if you don't stop 
talking. 

Kitty. I am mum, only I am so hungry. 

Florence. Would you like a piece of cake, Kitty .? (Girls 
laugh.) 

Kitty (groans). Don't speak of cake to me. 

Sallie. Don't move. Steady. {Snaps Kodak.) There ! It 
won't be good for anything. Kitty was one vast smile. 

Kitty. Try again. 1 will promise you I will keep sober. 

Sallie. No, can't waste any more time upon you. Here comes 
Miss Rebecca. She seems to have a hovering fondness for us. 

Mabel. " Hovering fondness " is good. Where did you get it, 
Sallie .? 

Sallie {taps forehead). From the rich quarries of my brain. 

Mabel. Goodness, Sallie ! Your " rich quarries " and my 
slumbering genius would make a fine combination. Oh, you were 
to read our palms. 

{Enter Miss Rebecca.) 

Rebecca. Where is Nan ? 

Polly. She will be here in a moment. Come and have your 
fortune told. 

Rebecca. I do not need to have my fortune told from my hand. 

Sallie {takes her hand; Gikls grouped about thevi). The fat'e 
line has been broken. Once, twice, — ah. Miss Rebecca, I fear 
you have been a wicked flirt. 

Rebecca {sighs). Yes, anew love has come constantly into my 
life. 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 39 

Sallte. But in the end the old love will triumph. 
Kebecca (eager/y). The Deacon ? 

Sallie. Yes. A laggard in love ; yet the time will come when, 
like the brave Lochinvar, 
Mabel. He will give — 

" One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, 
When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near. 
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, 
So light to the saddle before her he sprung. 
' She is won ! we are gone ! over bank, bush and scaur ; 
They'll have fleet steeds that follow ' quoth " old Deacon Starr. 

(Girls laugh.) 

K[TTY. Think of old Deacon Starr, a gay Lothario. 

Rebecca {indignantly). " Old" Deacon Starr indeed! His hair 
may be gray, his step slower than in his youthful days, but his heart 
beats as warmly as that of Tom Mason or any other silly boy lover. 
{Goes lip stage.) 

Kitty. Ha, ha ! Our love affair is progressing finely. It only 
needs one of your pot-boilers, Mab, to light the flame. 

{Efiter Ruth wearing Nan's old-fashioned bonnet.) 

Ruth. See what I have found. This old-fashioned bonnet. 

Polly {takes it from her head) . Which you will please take 
off, Miss Ruth. That belongs to Nan. 

Ruth. You needn't be so snappy, Polly Graham. It is too old 
to hurt. 

Helen. Didn't you ever hear about Nan's legacy? 

Florence. Never knew she had one. 

Helen {takes bonnet from Polly and holds it np). Here it is. 

Kitty. She couldn't live upon the income of that very long. 
Why does she think so much of it? 

Polly. Because it was a gift of love, and Nan does not have 
many of those. 

Helen. I should prefer a more substantial gift of love than 
this old bonnet. 

{Enter Mrs. Graham and Nan.) 

Mrs. G. You are still obstinate ? 
Nan. If you wish to call it that. 

Mrs. G. And you value my authority as nothing. Do you think 
it right after all these years that I have given you a home ? 

{Enter Aunt Clarissa.) 

Nan. Don't make it so hard for me, Aunt Graham. Even for 
all your kindness, I cannot do this act of injustice. 

Mrs. G. Then there is but one thing for you to do. You must 
leave this house. 



40 A KINGS DAUGHTER. 

Nan. Aunt Graham ! 

Aunt C. Eleanor, you surely do not mean that. 

Mrs. G. I do. My house is no longer her home, if she refuses 
to obey me. (Girls groi/^ together; express ivondcrtnent.) 

Helen (c?'osses to her mother). Mother, are you in earnest .'* 

Mrs. G. Yes; I wish to teach her a lesson. 

Hf=:len. You had better think twice, Nan. You do not know 
what it is to be without a home. 

Nan. I have had a roof to shelter me, clothes to wear, food, 
but the true atmosphere of home, — love and affection, — I have 
never known. I am able to work ; money will bring me all that I 
have had. 

Helen. Who will give you the love and affection? 

Aunt C. {crosses to Nan ; arm about her). I will. 

Mrs. G. Don''t be foolish. Aunt Clarissa. 

Aunt C. You would turn this child from your doors ? 

Mrs. G. She must be punished for her obstinacy and disobedi- 
ence. But this is nonsense. I will do nothing hasty. We will 
leave you alone to think this over, Nan; perhaps a few moments 
of quiet will bring you to your senses. ^All exeunt^ leaving Nan 
alone.) 

Nan. And this is the end of all my dreams. Banished from 
the only home I have ever known, and only because I will not take 
from another. 

{Etiter Polly.) 

r Polly. Don't you give in, Nan. I will go with you, and we 
can live together. 

Nan. No, Polly dear. The wide world is no place for you. 
{Arvi around her.) Stay where you are, and think of me and love 
me. When the way is rough and my journey hard, to know that 
you are safe and happy, loving me, will be an oasis in the great 
wide desert. ( Takes up old-fashioned bonnet, which is upon table 
l. ; kisses it.) You little thought, Uncle John, when you left me 
this legacy how much I should need a shelter, after all. (Sinks 
upon her knees, sobbing by table; Polly ivipes her eyes and goes up 
stage to windoiti.) 

(Enter Aunt Clarissa ; crosses to Nan atid lays her hand upon 
her shoulder.) 

Aunt C. Nan. 

Nan. Oh, Aunt Clarissa! 

Aunt C. Would it not be better, Nan, to obey your aunt ? 

Nan (turns and looks at Aunt C). And you ask me that, 
Aunt Clarissa ? 

Aunt C. Then you are determined? 

Nan. Yes. I will do as I think right for all the aunt Grahams 
in the world. (Sadly; tu7'ns to Aunt C.) But where shall I go ? 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 4I 

Aunt C. {sits in chair doivn r. and draws Nan to her, who 
kneels). Listen. Do you remember the picture of a home which 
you painted for me ? 

Nan. Yes ; but it will prove only a castle in the air. 

Aunt C. Which I propose to turn into a little cottage in this 
very town. 

Nan {clasps her hajids eagerly). Oh, if you only could ! 

Aunt C. It will be very small, and we must work hard. Will 
you share it with me ? 

Nan. Share it with you } {Arm about Aunt C. ; kisses her.) 
Oh, that would be too good to be true. 

Aunt C. {both rise). Be true to your convictions, my dear, and 
I will help you. 

Nan. You have made me as strong as iron. I have heart to do 
anything now. 

{Enter Mrs. G. and Helen.) 

Mrs. G. I hope you ha^ve decided wisely, Nan. 

Nan {quietly). I have. 

Mrs. G. What will you do t 

N'an. I leave here at once. 

Aunt C. And I go with her. 

Mrs. G. Then go, both of you, and learn a lesson from your 
obstinacy. 

Polly {throws arms about Nan). Oh, Nan, you will not leave 
me ? 

Mrs. G. Polly, come here. 

Nan {takes Polly's a?'7ns away). Your mother is speaking, 
Polly. (^Kisses her.) Good-bye, dear. 

Helen. And what do you expect to gain from this sacrifice ? 

Nan {arm about Aunt Clarissa; both at door c). Gain? 
Only the consciousness of well-doing; for that which I have done 
has not been for what the world may say of it, but " In His 
Name." 

{Tableau: Nan standing at ejitrance c, otte arm around Aunt 
Clarissa, the other, upon which boiinet is hanging, raised, hand 
pointing upward; Polly leanifig against table L., sobbing] Mrs. 
G. and Helen at r., looking at Nan.) 

QUICK CUj^TAIN. 



42 A KING S DAUGHTER. 

ACT III. 
*♦ The Fairy Godmother." 

Scene. — A hay-field. Drop of coufitry seem at back of stage. 
Trees r. and l. ; down extreme R. and L. on either side, a mound 
of hay. Ruth asleep on mound at R. ; Mabel writing on mound 
at\..\ Kitty, Florence, Sallie, atid Beth raking hay. All 
wear milking-maid's costumes. As curtain is raised, GiRLS are 
laughing and throwing hay at one another. 

Kitty {throws down rake"). It is very romantic to read of: 

** Maud Muller, on a summer's day, 
Raked the meadow, sweet with hay," 

but the realization of it is rather warm, and the romance of it van- 
ishes into thin air. {Sits upon tnoundl.. ; fatis Jierself with hat.') 
My blood is boiling. 

Sallie. Then, for mercy's sake, do come away from that mound 
of hay. With your blood at boiling-point, and Mab's genius burn- 
ing, we shall have a conflagration. (Girls rake hay to either side 
of stage, leaving Q. clear ^ 

Kitty. What are you writing, Mab? 

Mabel. My first love-story. 

Girls {throw down rakes and r its h to mound). Oh, do read it 
to us ! 

Mabel. It isn't finished yet. I tell you, girls, it is a great re- 
sponsibility to dispose of one's hero and heroine satisfactorily. 

Florence. To hear you talk in that cold-blooded fashion, one 
would think that these creatures of your imagination were inanimate 
objects, to be hermetically sealed, labelled, and dismissed when 
called for. 

Mabel. I am just at the point where it would be necessary to 
label them '' Handle with care." I don't know whether to have the 
hero fall in love with the heroine, or to let him die. 

Girls. Oh, no! 

Kitty. That would be mean. How would you like to have a 
man die ? 

Mabel, It would depend upon the man. There are some who 
shine better as dead heroes. {Refects.) Yes, I think that I will 
let him live. 

Florence. Noble girl. How happy you will make the heroine. 
Read it to us. 

Mabel. No, it isn't ready. Let us talk of this beautiful day. 

Sallie. It seems quite Hke a romance. 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 43 

Kitty. An unknown person becomes owner of Grafton Manse, 
invites The King's Daughters to spend the entire day upon her 
estates, and will not show herself until the ball this evening. We 
were requested to dress in dairy-maids' costumes and here we are. 
Hay-making at three ; visit the dairy at four; a feast of good things 
out here beneath the trees ; a ball in the evening, and that ends the 
programme. 

Beth. And we haven't an idea who our hostess is ; whether she 
is young or old. I think that it is the same one who has been 
giving us money to use amongst the poor. 

Florence. Whoever it maybe, she is doing good for the love 
of it and not for ostentation. {Rises.^ I say, God bless our 
hostess ! 

{Enter Aunt Clarissa luith basket.) 

Kitty. Yes, and so say I. When we do know her, if we don't 
express our thanks, it will be because we have lost the power of 
speech. 

Aunt C. There is gratitude in your hearts for some one ? 

Girls (rz>.?). Aunt Clarissa? 

Florence. We were speaking of our new neighbor, the owner 
of Grafton Manse. She must be very happy, doing so much good. 

Aunt C. She must be very fond of young people, don't you 
think so ? 

Kitty. She will make the young people very fond of her. 
Won't you sit down and rest ? 

Aunt C. It is Nan's birthday, and I must be at home when she 
returns from her work. 

Kitty. Let me carry your basket for you. It must be heavy. 
{Takes basket.) 

Aunt C. The King's Daughters have been very kind to me. I 
wish I could do something for you all in return. 

Florence, You do. Every day some one of our poor is helped. 
You may not have money to give, but think how many are made 
happy in that little cottage of yours. You never turn any one away 
hungry from your doors. Of course you are going to the Manse 
to-night to see the ball ? 

Aunt C. Dear me, no. What would a poor old lady like my- 
self be doing at a ball. I will leave that for the younger ones. I 
would like to have Nan go. 

Kitty. And so she shall. I will lend her one of my party 
gowns, 

Sallie, Yes ; and she shall have my loveliest fan. 

Aunt C. You are all very kind. 1 will try to persuade her. 
(Aunt C, a7id Kitty go up stage.) 

Florence. Good-by, Aunt Clarissa ; don't forget the ball. 

Beth, And you shall have one of my prettiest gowns. (Aunt 
Clarissa and Kitty exeimt.) 

Mabel. Only think of Aunt Clarissa and Nan living together 



44 A KING S DAUGHTER. 

in the little cottage at the end of the town. Nan is working hard 
for Miss Long the milhner, and she seems as happy as a queen. 
Where is Helen.'' 

Sallie. She has deserted us since Nan left the Grahams. 
Helen has not been the same girl. Something is troubling her. 

{Ejiier Polly ; she has two roses in her hand.) 

Beth. Where is Polly? 

Polly {Jumps upon 7nound R. slides down, waking Ruth). 
Here I am. 

Ruth (^jumping up). Heavens! What was that? A land- 
slide. 

Polly. No, my dear. A girl slide. 

Ruth. You spoiled a beautiful dream. It was about — 

Girls. Tom ? 

Ruth. No, you sillies. It was our unknown benefactress. I 
thought she proved to be some one whom we had always known. 

Kitty. Dreams go by contraries. That wouldn't 'be possible. 
In this small town, a mouse couldn't stir, much less a woman, with- 
out the entire population being made aware of it. Who is to be 
favored with your flowers. Polly? 

Polly. Nan, of course. It is her birthday. I am on the road 
to her house now. 

Marel. Are you? I thought it was a hay-mound. 

Polly. Don't let any of that brilliancy escape, Mab ; you need 
it all for your pot-boilers. 

Ruth. May we go with you? 

Polly. Yes, only the one that gets there last, must make the 
presentation speech. 

Florence. I won't lose a moment. You don't catch me speech- 
making. {Makes for back of stage; Girls /oi/ow her.) 

Polly. Come back. That 'isn't fair. We must all start to- 
gether. (Girls return and stand in a line.) Now, one, two, 
three, go. (Girls rush off laughing; Polly runs with them to 
back of stage, then stops.) They can have the ruji, and I will have 
the/?/;/ of making the speech. 'l was awake all night thinking of 
it. I don't intend that my eloquence shall be nipped in the bud. 
{Exit leisurely.) 

{Enter Miss Rebecca, l., in pink costjtme ; carries pi?ik parasol.) 

Rebecca. The very air breathes mystery and romance. As I 
wander beneath the trees whose rustling leaves bid me a silvery 
welcome, I dare not give utterance to my thoughts for fear he is 
hovering near. Aroused by the pangs of jealousy, the Deacon 
has all but spoken ; yet I withhold the one bit of encouragement 
that he is waiting for, hoping that my fond and mysterious lover, 
who calls himself my '"Romeo," may come to me. A sweet de- 
licious uncertainty. A fortunate woman you are indeed, Rebecca. 



A king's daughter. 45 

Two lovers who wait, each eager to call me his. Often my fancy 
leads me to picture myself coming unawares upon my would-be hero. 
(^Crosses stag£ , sees pair of boots and tnari's hat our. side of mound 
R. half hidden by the hay; scieams.) What do 1 see? A pair of 
boots and a man's hat. It is he, — my Romeo. 

{Enter Florence and Sallie running.^ 

Florence. .What is the matter? We heard you scream. 

Sallie. What is it, Miss Rebecca ? 

Rebecca {agitated). Oh, nothing. I thought that I saw some 
one. 

Florence. Where? 

Rerecca {points). There, in the hay. (Girls /^^>^.) 

Sallie. A man's hat and boots peering forth. If Mab were 
only here she could weave a romance. She would probably con- 
demn this man to be one of her dead heroes. 

Rebecca. I was so frightened ; my heart is in aflutter. {Sinks 
upon inonnd L.) 

Florence (/^Sallie). We do not need Mab to romance for 
us. Let's have some fun. 

Sallie. I havn't an idea how, but go ahead. 

Florence. Have you heard the rumor, Miss Rebecca, that a 
strange man has been seen about town? (Miss Rebecca j/^zr/j- ; 
Florence looks at Sallie, -ivho fiods that she nnderstands.) 

Sallie. Yes, they say that he is in love with some one. 

Florence. Wouldn't it be great fun if we should discover that 
beneath this hat is the noble alabaster brow of the man whose 
coming is so mysterious. 

Rebecca {rises). I beg you will not disturb the man whoever 
he may be. He is evidently very tired. It would be cruel to 
awaken him. 

Florence. Yet, by so doing, we might learn who is the fair 
object for which his heart yearns. It might be you, Miss Rebecca. 

Rebecca {coqnettishly). Oh, no, 

Sallie {with dignity). It might be Sallie Browning. 

Rebecca. Oh, no. {Corrects herself.) Oh, yes. 

Florence. Whether Miss Rebecca, Sallie Browning or Florence 
Baldwin, I intend to arouse the slumbering hero. {Crosses to R.) 

Rebecca. Don't, Miss Kitty. If it should be he, it might be 
embarrassing to find three here. 

Florence. Very well, you go, Miss Rebecca. 

Rebecca. I could not think of leaving you alone here. I will 
remain. 

Florence. We will protect one another. There is safety in 
numbers, you know. What would Deacon Starr say if he should 
happen by and saw you kneeling before the prostrate form of an 
unknown man. His courage would sHp away. 

Sallie {at back of stage). There goes the Deacon now in the 



46 A king's daughter. 

direction of your house. What a pity to have him disappointed in 
his call. 

R-EBECCA. I will go. {Makes for back of stage?) 

Florence {who is at tnound r. looking at hat and boots^ . Our 
hero stirs. 

Rebecca (co?nes down again). I will stay. 

Sallie {looking off) . Some one is speaking to the Deacon — 
the fascinating iMiss Brett. 

Rebecca (makes for back of stage again). I will go. 

Florence {same business as before). He smiles in his sleep. 
He is dreaming of her. 

Rebecca {comes down again; hesitates ; makes for back of 
stage again). I know not which way to turn. 

Florence (i,'<9(?j- /^ her). Go, Miss Rebecca, and if you prove 
to be the one, I will come to you at once. Poor man ; the un- 
certainty of his fate has made him weary. You would treat him 
kindly. 

Rebecca {takes Florence's hand; wipes eyes). I will, I 
promise you. My heart has always a tender spot for lonely people. 
{Exit l.) 

Florence. Ha, ha. That is the best joke yet. The girls will 
just howl when they hear of it. {Sinks laughing npon mound.) 

Sallie {sitting beside her). I laugh with you, Florence, but I 
don't see the point. 

Florence {rises and crosses to viound^ R.). Wait until I show 
you. {Holds up hat and boots.) The Alpha and Omega of Romeo. 
Ha, ha. 

Sallie. And you knew this all the time.^ 

Florence. Of course I did. The hat that hides from view the 
noble alabaster brow. Ha, ha ; what shall we do with these .'' 

Sallie. To whom do they belong.'' 

Florence. To old Tom, the gardener. We will hang them 
upon this tree. {Hangs thevi on tree at r.) And we will write a 
note. ( Takes pejicil and paper from pocket.) 

Sallie. Write something short and sweet. 

Florence {writes^. There! We lead the club on match-mak- 
ing. {Puts paper t?i pocket of coat.) Now to find the girls and 
tell the joke. 

Sallie. Yes, and I must have my Kodak for the final tableau. 
{Exeunt r.) 

{Enter Nan, l.) 

Nan. What a glorious day for the hay-makers. {Takes hay 
and s?nells of it.) New-mown hay — how sweet and refreshing. 
{Sinks upon mound.) I can hardly realize tiiat I am the same 
Nan Graham who lived a month ago. The sun seems to shine 
brighter, the earth looks lovelier to me, and all because I am 
happy. It is the old story of Cinderella and her fairy godmother. 
Aunt Clarissa does not send me to balls in a coach and four ; no 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 47 

glass slipper to lead the way to a royal husband ; but with her love 
and kindness, she has transformed my life from one of drudgery to 
one of peace and contentment. {Rises.) To-day I can breathe 
the sweetness of the air, and feel that it is good to be alive. 
{Walks to back of stage.) 

{Enter Girls, followed by Polly.) 

Kitty. Here is Nan, now. 

Nan. Were you looking for me? 

Kitty. Yes, we have been to your house to wish you many 
returns of the day. 

Nan. How kind of you. 

Polly. I brought you these flowers from my garden. 

Mabel. A speech, Polly. You were last. 

Polly. Oh, I don't know how. 

Kitty. Yes, you do. (Girls lead her to 7notmd of hay at l., 
and help her to 7nonnt.) 

Polly. I can't make a speech. I will paint one. (Girls 
laugh.) 

Beth. That would be too expensive, Polly. You used all the 
black paint Mr. Gray had in his store. 

Polly. If Kitty will present Nan with a cake, I will. (Girls 
laugh^ 

Ruth. Yes, and our local reporter will have an account of it in 
the weekly Argus. " The presentation of the cake so aflfected the 
recipient, that she melted into tears." (Girls laugh.) 

Kitty {throws handful of hay at Polly). Pauline, you are 
treading upon dangerous ground. Come, make your prettiest bow, 
my dear. 

Polly {makes bow ; stumbles and slides from mound; Girls 
laugh). I wasn't born for lofty heights. Roses one, roses two, 
these, dear Nan, I picked for you. {Gives roses to Nan; Girls 
applaud.) 

Nan {takes them and throws ar77t arou7id Polly). Thank you, 
little sweetheart. {Kisses her.) Your roses are just like yourself — 
fresh and pure ; and your speech, what I like best. 

Kitty. It is time to visit the dairy ; come on, girls. 

Beth. All right; come, Polly. 

Polly. No, thank you ; I prefer to stay with Nan. 

Ruth. Of course we mean for Nan to come. 

Nan. It is ever so kind of you, girls, but Aunt Clarissa will be 
waiting for me. 

Kitty. All right. (Girls exeunt.) 

Nan {both seated upon 77iound). Now we can have a cosey chat 
all by ourselves. {Smells of roses.) You never forgot me, Polly, 

Polly. How could I? It is so lonely without you at home, 
Nan. I wish you were back again. 

Nan {arm about Polly). No, you don't, Polly, dear. 



48 A king's daughter. 

Polly. Not for your sake, but for my own. I know that you 
are happier with Aunt Clarissa, but you work so hard. 

Nan. I don't mind it. It is so lovely to work for some one 
who gives you more than money in returr^ — love. Aunt Clarissa 
is so good to me. 

Polly. She seemed so cross when she was at our house, and 
now she is so pleasant and lovely. Somethmg is the matter with 
Helen, Nan. She never scolds me now, I think that she is sorry 
for treating you so badly. 

Nan {rises). Oh, no, I can't think that. She has never been 
to see me. {Bitterly.) I might have starved, and she would not 
have lifted a finger to help me. Never mind, Polly, dear, I did not 
starve, and am happier than I have ever been in all my life. The 
Grant family are content, and when I see their grateful faces, I 
feel thankful that it was in my power to help them. 

{Enter Mrs. Graham.) 

Mrs. G. Polly. 

Nan {turns and sees her). Aunt Graham? 

Mrs. G. This is the first time that we have meet, Nan, since 
you left my house. Are you not tired of jour wilfulness and the 
hard work? 

Nan. I am not tired of the love and affection which Aunt 
Clarissa bestows upon me. 

Mrs. G. I did not intend to drive you from my doors ; I only 
wished to be obeyed. 

Nan. You did me a kindness then, more than any of us realized. 
I would not give up this freedom, the knowledge that I am no longer 
a dependent, for all the world. 

Mrs G. Will you make your home with us again ? I am sorry 
for what I did. 

Nan {goes to her and takes her hand). Thank you. Aunt Graham. 
I appreciate how hard this must be for you, but I could never again 
place myself under Helen's tyranny. 

Mrs. G. And if she, too, asked you to come? 

{Enter Aunt Clarissa.) 

Nan {arm about Aunt C). Not if she asked me a thousand 
times, would I leave Aunt Clarissa. She has been father and 
mother to me. 

Aunt C. What are you asking of Nan, Eleanor? 

Mrs. G. To call my home hers again. 

Nan {takes Aunt Clarissa's /^/t-^"/;^ both hands ; looks at her a 
7nomentj kisses her). Do you need an answer? (Nan crosses to 
Polly; Aunt C. to Mrs. Graham.) 

Aunt C. You see, we are both happy and contented, Eleanor. 
Your measure was a harsh one, but the sorrow of that day has been 
wiped out a hundred fold by the peacefulness and happiness of our 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 49 

lives. Unwittingly, you gave to me the love of a girl's heart 
which had been hungry so long. I came into her life when she 
needed me most, and the wealth of her affection is mine. You may 
think of me as poor, but no richer legacy can come to a woman 
than the love which I now possess. 

Mrs. G. {sinks upon mound at r; weeps). Then there is no 
atonement that I can make ? 

Aunt C. {hand 2cp07i Mrs. G's shoulder). Eleanor, when the 
time comes, that your daughter Helen has learned the true mean- 
ing of "A King's Daughter,^' I will forgive and forget all. 

Mrs. G. She has learned that already. She has not known one 
happy moment, since Nan left us. 

Aunt C. So much the better. Her lesson must be a severe 
one. {Offers hand to Mrs. G.) Never forget again that when a 
child is placed under your protection and care, it means that love 
goes with it. Come, Nan. 

Nan. Yes, Aunt Clarissa. {Crosses to her.) I shall expect 
you soon, Polly. 

Aunt C. Yes, you are always welcome, my dear. Eleanor, 
when the day comes that you and yours sit with me at my own 
table, I shall rejoice with all my heart. (Aunt C. and Nan 
exeunt.) 

Polly {arm about Mrs. G.). Don't feel badly, mother, dear. 
Every thing will come out right, I am sure of it. Come with me 
and we will watch the girls in the dairy. Some of them are trying 
to make butter. 

Mrs. G. Polly, be thoughtful of your sister Helen. She is so 
unhappy. 

Polly. Don't you think at she would let me join the club of 
King's Daughters now ? 

Mrs. G. {kisses her). You have, at heart, always been one of 
them. {Exeunt.) 

{Enter Miss Rebecca.) 

Rebecca. The dear deacon has spoken at last, but I must hear 
from my unknown lover first. {Sees hat and boots.) Oh, what do 
I see? My Romeo hanging there ? {Crosses to tree.) No, once 
more, I breathe. He was awakened from his refreshing slumber, 
and has doubtless wandered to the babbling brook, where, in its 
sylvan solitude, he may quench his thirst. A bit of paper peeping 
from his pocket. It may be a fond epistle for me. {Takes paper 
from pocket; Girls heard laughing; thrusts paper back again.) 
The girls are coming. They must not see me here. {Hides be- 
hind tree.) 

{Enter Girls laughing^ 

Florence. It is the best joke. {Points to hat and boots.) 
Behold our Romeo. (Girls laugh.) 
Sallie. That is all that is left of him. 



50 A KING S DAUGHTER. 

Florence. I told you that his end would be spontaneous com- 
bustion. 

Sallie. Miss Rebecca is probably awaiting our coming with a 
trembling heart. 

Mabel. My fond missives from Romeo to Deacon Starr and 
from Romeo to Miss Rebecca are accomplishing good work. The 
Deacon's curls rest becomingly every evening now upon the 
slumber pillow which makes Miss Rebecca's easy chair so com- 
fortable. 

Kitty. Miss Rebecca is a perfect symphony in pink. She has 
worn that color ever since we told her that Deacon Starr was fond 
of that color. 

Beth. It is a pity to deceive her any longer. We ought to tell 
her that her Romeo is but the creation of Mab's intellect. 

(Miss Rebecca appears, very angry.') 

Rebecca. " Creation of Mab's intellect," indeed ! So you have 
been making fun of me, have you ? 

Girls. Miss Rebecca! 

Rebecca. Yes, I overheard your conversation. You have made 
me the laughing stock of the whole neighborhood. 

Kitty. We didn't mean any harm, dear Miss Rebecca. {Places 
hand soothingly upon Miss R's. arm.) 

Rebecca {throws off hand). Don't "Dear Miss Rebecca" 
me. You are a set of mischief-making girls. You ought to be 
ashamed of yourselves. {Shakes parasol at them.) 

Florence. We thought only of your happiness. 

Rebecca. My happiness indeed ! Only an excuse for that 
girl {points parasol at Mabel), who thinks herself a rising literary 
comet, to find something to write about. Your fathers shall re- 
spectively and collectively be informed of this outrage. {Opens 
parasol with energy; speaks dra?natically.) Beware of the ire of 
Rebecca Spencer. {Exit.) 

Beth. Well, we've made a mess of it. 

Mabel {walks about with digfiity) . Please treat me with proper 
respect, girls. It isn't every day that a comet comes down to 
earth dressed as a dairy maid. I always knew that some day I 
would make a sensation, and here I am. (Girls laugh.) A new 
discovery by Rebecca Spencer, spinster — a Hterary comet. 

Kitty. She will never forgive us. 

Sallie. I think it just the best thing that could happen. The 
knowledge that another man loved his sweetheart has awakened 
the Deacon to a realizing sense of the true state of affairs, and I 
am willing to wager that Miss Rebecca will be engaged before the 
sun goes down, and the Club of King's Daughters can establish a 
new department in their work. 

Beth. What will that be .? 

Sallie. A matrimonial agency. (Girls laugh.) 



A KINGS DAUGHTER. 5 1 



{Enter Helen Graham.) 

Kitty. Well, Helen Graham, this is a nice time of day to 
present yourself at a hay-making party ; never knew you to shirk 
work before. 

Florence. I am glad that you have on your costume, anyway. 
Why didn't you come before? 

Helen. Because I hadn't the heart to. 

Sallie {arm about Helen). What is the matter with you? 
You ought to tell your friends and let them help you. That is 
what our club is for. 

Helen. Don't speak of the King's Daughters to me. I have 
no right to call myself one of them. 

Kitty. Why, what do you mean ? I am sure there is no one 
more ready to sew for the poor than j'ou are. 

Helen. Ah, girls, I have learned another meaning of a King's 
Daughter. {Does not see Nan a7id Polly, who efiter.) You all 
know how unkind I was to my cousin Nan. I was selfish and 
hateful to her always. Jealous, fearful that she should have some 
of the pleasures that came to me. I will never again call myself a 
King's Daughter until she has forgive.n me. {Sinks upon mound 
at L., and buries face in hands. ^ 

Nan {motions for Girls to leave the stage ; all do so but Polly, 
who remains at back; Nan comes down; soft tnusic). Helen. 

Helen {raises head; rises^. Nan! 

Nan. If you are so desirous of my forgiveness, Helen, why 
have you never sought me to ask for it. I have been away from 
your house a whole month, and this is the first time we have 
spoken. 

Helen {holds head down) . I was ashamed to see you after my 
unkindness. 

Nan. For ten years you treated me as one who had no right to 
receive a loving word. I was expected to run at your beck and 
call. {Bitterly.) When my usefulness was beyond your reach, 
you began to think of me a little. 

Helen. Spare me. Nan. I know that I deserve all this, but I 
am sorry for what I have done and humbly beg your pardon. 
(P0LI.Y shows signs of delight.) 

Nan. I can never forgive you. There is too much to forget. 

Helen. I have no right to expect it. {Goes up stage.) 

Polly {comes down to Nan). It is your birthday, Nannie, dear. 

Nan. Yes, but the bitterness and humiliation of all those years 
cannot be wiped Out in a moment. 

Polly. Cannot you forgive "/« His Name''''? 

Nan {hesitates; finally slowly turns and fwlds out hands to 
Helen). Helen! 

Helen {runs down to her). Nan, you will forgive me? 

Nan. With my whole heart. {They embrace.) 



52 A KING S DAUGHTER. 

Helen. And my hatefulness about the letter ? 

Nan. What letter? (Polly ivies to attract Helen's attention.) 

Helen. The letter which you received from the school com- 
mittee. 

Nan. I don't understand. Polly found it in her pocket, where 
it had been all the time. 

Polly {stands beside Helen). Yes, it had slipped down be- 
tween my dress and the lining. {Looks at Helen with meaning.) 

Helen. What do 3'ou mean, Polly Graham ? (Polly motions 
her to be silent.) No, I cannot be silent. I must speak. Polly 
dropped the letter, I found it and kept it. 

Nan {with amazement) . Cousin Helen ! 

Helen. Do you wonder that I have not known a peaceful 
moment since you left us ? Jealous that you should have a secret 
from me, I was determined to let you wait for the letter until too 
late for the appointment. 

Nan. Oh, Helen ! How could you do such a thing ? 

Helen. 1 was selfish and hateful. {Turns to Polly.) Why 
did you not tell Nan the truth ? 

Polly. I knew the day would come when you would regret 
having done such a thing. I wanted to help you and be a King's 
Daughter. 

Helen. Oh, Polly ! {Bursts into tears.) 

Polly {arm about her). Don't cry, Helen. Nan, won't you 
kiss and be friends? 

Nan {kisses Helen). Such friends, I hope, as we have never 
been before. (Nan and Helen walk to back of stage.) 

Polly {wipes eyes). Guess there isn't any doubt about my 
being a King's Daughter now. {Walks back and forth with 
dignity, sifiging " / 'm so toppy.'''') 

{Enter Kitty running.) 

Kitty. Oh, girls, do hurry. We are forming the march for the 
dance now. 

Helen {holds out hands to Nan aiid Polly). We have two 
new members in our club, Kitty. 

Kitty. Who are they ? 

Helen. Nan and Polly. 

Kitty. Three cheers for the new members. Come, the girls 
will be here in a few moments. 

Helen. Nan, this grand f^te must be to celebrate your birth- 
day. We will dance to many returns of it. {Exeunt^ 

{Enter Aunt Clarissa, r ; looks off, watches Girls.) 

Aunt C. Nan and Helen together. A good omen. No better 
birthday gift for my dear girl than such a reconciliation. My little 
method of deception has proved a success. Nan loves me for 
myself, Polly was always pure gold, and Helen will be a better 
and nobler woman for these days of repentance. 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 53 



{Enter Miss Rebecca ; walks quickly across stage.) 

Aunt C. Where are you going in such a hurry? You seem to 
be in great excitement. Can I do any thing for you ? 

Rebecca. I have been shamefully abused. My affairs have 
been made common talk by those heedless, fun-loving girls. Being 
a creature of impulse, I am seeking revenge. 

Aunt C. I don't understand. 

Rebecca {with sarcasm). Ask any of the King's Daughters, 
whose mission it is to perform noble deeds. They will tell you. 
{Exit.) 

Aunt C. Something serious must have happened to make the 
usually placid Miss Rebecca so excited. I wonder what it can be ? 

{Enter Nan and Polly.) 

Polly. The girls are coming. It is a lovely sight. 

Aunt C. Why are not you and Nan in the dance ? 

Nan. We didn't have time to put on the costumes. We will 
sit beside you and watch it. (Girls seated by Aunt C. on 
mound L.) 

{Music ; GiRLS 7narch on and give the " Dairy Maid March and 
Dance.'''' It will be necessary to introduce others for this. Girls 
inarch off after dance.) 

Polly. I mean to try my hand at churning butter. I have been 
dying to, all day. {Exit.) 

Nan. Don't you think that the girls are a success as dairy 
maids ? 

Aunt C. It was a perfect picture. How much pleasure this 
unknown hostess is giving you all. 

Nan. And to think that this should happen on my birthday. 
Best of all, Helen and I are friends. My cup of joy would be 
overflowing, if I could go to the ball to-night. 

Aunt C. Why not.? 

Nan. My best gown is not suitable for such an affair. 

Aunt C. I have made you no gift upon your birthday. Did 
you think that I had forgotten you ? 

Nan. You and I do not need gifts to remind us of one another. 
How happy we have been in our httle cottage ! 

Aunt C. Yes, but you work so hard. 

Nan. What of that ? I know a rich reward is awaiting me at 
home. {Kisses her.) My Aunt Clarissa. 

Aunt C. And do you never long for riches ? 

Nan. We all love beaudful things ; but if riches had been my 
portion, you and I would never have found how dearly we loved 
one another. 

Aunt C. {both rise ; Girls come on, during Chis conversation, 
and remain at back of stage). I have a birthday gift for you, my 
dear. Let me be the fairy godmother and send you to the ball 



54 A KING S DAUGHTER. 

to-night. You will find a Cinderella gown at home ; put it on and 
dance to your heart's content. (Girls come dow?i.) I shall be 
proud to have our hostess meet the King's Daughters. They are 
such well bred girls. 

{Enter Polly ; wears large apron, ivJiich is covered with creain^ 

Polly. I'm well bred and buttered now. {Makes wry face ; 
Girls laugh.') Just look at me. Did you ever see such a sight. 
The cream went all over me. Some one lend me a handkerchief. 

Kitty. Dairy maids never carry one. 

Aunt C. And mine has been left at home. 

Nan {who through the first part of this act carries old fashioned 
bonnet on arjn). We can take the lining of this old bonnet. 
{Tears out lining; paper falls out.) 

Kitty {picks up paper). Nan, we have caught you this time. 
A novel way of hiding your love letters. 

Nan {takes letter). What can it be ? Uncle John's will. 
{Crosses to Aunt C.) What does this all mean, Aunt Clarissa? 

Aunt C. {after reading paper). It means, my dear, that when 
your Uncle John gave you the bonnet, and said it might prove a 
shelter for your head, his meaning was a double one. He has left 
you the bulk of his property. 

Nan. This wealth will be mine ? 

Aunt C. Yes, you are an heiress. 

Kitty. Three cheers for Nan, the heiress. (Girls cheer.) 

Helen {crosses to Nan). I am so glad for you. {To Aunt C.) 
Aunt Clarissa, Nan has forgiven me. Will you? 

Aunt C. {gives her hand) . Yes, my dear. Only too glad that 
you have proved better at heart than you seemed. 

{Enter Mrs. Graham.) 

Florence. Oh, Mrs. Graham ! Have you heard the good 
news ? 

Mrs. G. What is it? 

Helen. Nan found Uncle John's will beneath the lining of her 
bonnet. He has left a fortune to her, 

Mrs. G. {gives hand to Nan). I am indeed glad for your good 
fortune. 

Nan. Thank you, Aunt Graham. Girls, come with me and see 
my birthday present from Aunt Clarissa. 

Girls. Indeed we will. {Exeunt^ 

Mrs. G. Helen and Nan together ! Then this means — 

Aunt C. Forgiveness and, I trust, future happiness. 

Mrs. G. My prayers have been answered. Will you make my 
home yours ? 

Aunt C. Nan and I will always have our own fireside, but shall 
be glad of a welcome at yours. 

Mrs. G. Will you come now ? 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 55 

Aunt C. Not yet, I have something to attend to first. 

Mrs. G. Let your coming be soon that I may not awaken and 
find this all a dream. {Exit.) 

Aunt C. My little comedy is almost at an end. Only a few 
preparations for the final tableau. I will send a note to Nan. 
{Takes paper afid pencil from pockei ; writes, encloses it in en- 
velope, addresses it; leaves note upon mound.') And now, poor 
Aunt Clarissa vanishes from the scene. {Exit.) 

{Enter Sallie and Florence; Sallie has Kodak pictures.) 

Florence. Isn't that gown of Nan's too lovely for anything. 
I thought that Aunt Clarissa was poor. 

Sallie. She seems to be, but that gown is a dream. Some of 
these pictures are rather good. (Girls look at pictures together.) 

Florence. Here is Polly eating cake. (Laughs.) Better of 
the cake than of Polly. 

Sallie. This is Polly posing as an artist. The picture seems 
to be in mourning. 

Florence. I don't wonder, so much black paint. Who is 
this } 

Sallie. That is a bird's eye view of Aunt Clarissa. 

Florence. She is at Helen's tea table ; she has an envelope in 
her hand. 

Sallie. Didn't we find an envelope with some money in it on 
that very day and at that very table .'* 

Florence. We did. Put that and Nan's lovely gown together 
and I tell you there is some mystery here. 

Sallie. Nonsense ; it couldn't be possible. We should have 
found it out in some way. 

Florence. You wait and see. 

{Enter Kitty and Beth with table; place it in c. of stage.) 

Kitty. It is decreed that we are to have our supper here. 

{Enter Ruth with table cover; spreads it over table.) 

Ruth. If we only had some young men here now, it would be 
perfect. 

Kitty. Perfect what ! Bliss f 

(Mabel enters with plates : others exeunt and bring in the rest of 
the dishes.) 

Mabel {arranging table; sings) : 

" And we'll drink to the health of our favorite lass." 

Kitty. That is a good idea. We will drink Nan's health on 
her birthday in lemonade. 
Ruth. Who will make it ? 



S6 



A KINGS DAUGHTER. 



Mabel. I will. {Some of the Gikls cut lemonii j MA.Ti^i. pre* 
pares lemonade.) Where is the sugar.-* 

Kitty. Let your comet eyes look into it. That will be enough. 

Mabel. " Comet eyes " is good. So long as you did not call 
them comic eyes, I will forgive you. {Tastes it.) There is a 
'* more-ish " taste about that which would please Polly. Now, let's 
remove the debris and everything will soon be ready. (Girls 
retnove lemon peel^ etc.) 

{Enter Polly, back to audience,, bowing profoundly^ 

Kitty. Hail to our queen. 

{Enter Nan, wears white gown, simple but elegant; wears Polly's 

roses.) 

Ruth. You look too sweet to live. 

Nan. Don't say that, just when the fun is commencing. I must 
pinch myself to see if it isn't all a dream. 

Kitty. It wouldn't be bad, even for a dream. 

Florence. You must have a fairy godmother somewhere, Nan. 
They say that everything goes by threes. You will have another 
surprise before the day is over, {Takes letter from moutid.) 
What is this .-* More money for our poor. No, it is addressed to 
Nan. 

Kitty. The surprise. Do open it, Nan. 

Nan. It may not be pleasant news. I dread to open it. {Openi 
it.) From Aunt Clarissa. • 

Helen {looks at envelope). The same handwriting. 

Nan {reads). Dear Nan: Now that riches have come into 
your life, you will not need your poor Aunt Clarissa any longer. 
Let the coming hostess of Grafton Manse find the King's Daugh- 
ters as worthy of her esteem as I have. Good-by. Your poor, 
but loving, Aunt Clarissa. {Speaks.) Oh, this is cruel. What 
would all the wealth of the world be to me without Aunt Clarissa ? 
She cannot have gone very far. I must find her. 

{Enter Miss Rebecca.) 

Nan. Have you seen Aunt Clarissa? 

Rebecca. Yes, she was climbing the hill to yonder Manse. 

Nan. Then I shall be in time. {Runs to entrance, R.) 

Rebecca {stops her). You were not to follow. She has gone 
to pay her respects to our new hostess. She told me to tell you 
that she would see you again. 

Nan. Then I will wait. Once within these loving arms, she 
will not leave me. But you seem troubled. 

Rebecca. My very hair has turned white with chagrin and mor- 
tification with this day's work. 

Nan. What do you mean? 

Rebecca. Ask the King's Daughters. They will tell you. 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 57 

Florence. Only an attempt to make Miss Rebecca and the 
Deacon happy. 

Rebecca. " Only an attempt." The day will come when every 
one of you will be sorry that you made such an attempt. I thirst 
for revenge. 

Florence. Still thirsty, and we have no soda to offer you. 
Girls, a glass of lemonade. (Kitty brings leino7tade ', Miss R. 
refuses it.) 

Mabel. Let me read to you my latest production. That may 
be soothing. 

Rebecca {snatches paper f7'om Mabel ; tears it and throws it 
upon floor). Spend your time in the study of the rules of com- 
mon politeness. It will be more to your advantage. 

Mabel. Miss Rebecca ! 

Nan. Enough of this. Girls, leave us for a few moments. 
Perhaps we can straighten this out. It seems to be a tangled web 
of misunderstanding. 

Polly. You always come to the rescue, Nan. I hope I shall 
have a love affair before you die. 

Nan. Why, what could I do .? 

Polly. We could have all the lovers' quarrels we pleased and 
you could make everything look like sunshine after it. 

Nan. You flatterer. (Girls exeunt.) 

Rebecca. Don't think that I shall ever forgive them. The 
wound is too deep. 

Nan {leads her to mound R. ; both sit). Let me talk to you. Miss 
Rebecca. The mission of the King's Daughters is to do good. 

Rebecca. I don't call it doing good to torment a poor, lone 
fbmale hke myself — to deceive me. 

Nan. Deacon Starr has loved you all these years, and has 
never told you of it. 

Rebecca. Not until to-day. 

Nan, He has spoken, then. It is all the result of the girls' 
interest in you. It is because they have thought of you, felt sorry 
for you in your loneliness, that they have done this. 

Rebecca, I thought that they were making sport of me. 

Nan. Never! They respect you too highly for that. It was 
only for your happiness. {Both rise.) And if they gave them- 
selves a- little fun with it, remember that they are only girls and 
that to see the bright and jolly side of life is one of the preroga- 
tives of youth. {Gives hand to Miss R.) I shall never forget 
how kind you have been to me, Miss Rebecca, and hope that on 
this my birthday you will celebrate it by giving an answer to Deacon 
Starr which will make it for him, as it has been for me, a red letter 
day. 

Rebecca. He shall have it. Thank you for your kind words, 
and may this be but the beginning of a bright and happy future for 
you. {EJcit.) 

Nan. She will be happy now. What can Aunt Clarissa mean 



58 

by writing me such a note ? This gown is too beautiful for her 
scanty purse. Everything seems surrounded in mystery. 

{Enter Girls.) 

Kitty. It is time for our hostess. 

Helen. I don't understand about that handwriting. Nan, could 
it have been Aunt Clarissa who has been giving us money? 

Kitty. It is her handwriting. 

Nan. But she had no money to give. 

Florence {takes hold of Nan's dress). I am not so sure of 
that. 

(Polly enters running.') 

Polly. Oh, girls! A servant told us that our hostess" was 
coming here to meet us. 

Kitty. Here is the table spread for our tea. What shall we do 
with it? 

Florence. Let's place it at one side, and when she comes we 
will drinkiier health as well. (Girls move table to side of stage.) 

Polly {looks off i..). I do believe that she is coming now. 
(Girls 7'ush to Polly ; all crowd and try to see.) Don't push 
me into her very arms. 

Kitty. The servants are standing in a line on either side ; see 
them bow. 

Ruth. Can you see her? 

Polly. Yes, there she comes ; but I can't see her face. 

Florence. We do not need to see her face to be assured of its 
loveliness. 

Nan. I wish Aunt Clarissa were here. 

{Enter Mrs. Graham.) 

Polly. Oh, mamma ! The mistress of Grafton Manse is 
coming. 

Mrs. G. She will receive a royal welcome. 

Helen. How could it be otherwise from the King's Daughters? 

Polly. I can hear the rustle of her silk gown. 

Kitty. Here she is Stand in a row and receive her with due 
respect. (Girls for/n on either side of stage.) 

{Enter Aunt Clarissa, richly dressed.) 

Girls. Aunt Clarissa! 

Aunt C. The new mistress of Grafton Manse, if you please. 

Nan {goes to her). You, mistress of Grafton Manse ? 

Aunt C. Yes. 

Kitty. The fairy godmother. 

Aunt C. Eleanor, you will forgive me for this masquerading, 
but I wished to know who would love me for myself. My property 
was not lost through speculations ; and as I wished to make some 
one my heir, I took this means. 



A KING S DAUGHTER. 



59 



Nan. And you deceived me, too. Well, this is a day of sur- 
prises. 

Kitty. Then Nan will be a double heiress. 

Aunt C. I thought to find one by my deception, but my discov- 
ery proved richer than I dared hope. Nan, who because she knew 
what loneliness was, gave me all that she possessed. {Holds out 
hand to Polly.) Polly, who proved herself Nan's champion and 
was always loyal. {Holds out hand to Helen.) And Helen, 
who stumbled and walked blindly, until her eyes were opened to 
the true sense of giving. Am I not rich in finding all these treas- 
ures? All shall share alike. 

Mrs. G. You are too kind to us. 

Helen. I do not deserve all this, Aunt Clarissa. 

Aunt C. Let your future life prove that you do. 

Helen. The money given to us. 

Aunt C. {langhiiig). I was the guilty party. 

Nan. And I would not let you give when you wished to. 

Aunt C. It went with the masquerading, my dear. 

{Enter Miss Rebecca.) 

Kitty. Miss Rebecca! 

Rebecca. The affianced bride of Deacon Starr, if you please. 

Mabel. Our congratulations. (Girls gather about her and 
offer co7igratnlations7) 

Nan. Your note, Aunt Clarissa. I read between the lines now. 
I was only bidding good-by to the one who helped me to share 
poverty and hard work. 

Aunt C. The life was a hard one, but the coming one of plenty 
will be all the sweeter to you. 

Kitty. We must drink the health of our new hostess. 

Girls. Oh, yes ! {Fill glasses ; all stand with the7n in hand.') 

Mabel. The health of our hostess, who comes amongst us as 
an old and tried friend. Peace and happiness to Aunt Clarissa. 
{All raise glasses to lips.') 

Mabel {To Nan). Many happy returns of this her birthday. 
{Same business.) 

Aunt C. Let me offer a toast to the King's Daughters. May 
their noble work continue: helping the needy "In His name"; 
giving because it is good to give ; and may every young woman 
who seeks to hve an honest, upright life find the " Open Sesam^ " 
to peace and happiness in becoming truly, a King's Daughter. 

{Tableau; All stand with glasses raised; Aunt Clarissa, 
Nan, Polly, and Mrs. G., in c. ; Girls and Miss Rebecca 
grouped 07t either side. 

SLOW CURTAIN. 

Note. — " Dairy Maid's March and Dance " can be found at publishers, price, 
25 cents ; also the song, " The King's Daughters," price, 30 cents. 



Bater's Monthly Bulletin. 



New Plays, 

DIALOGUES, DRILLS AND MISCELLANEOUS ENTERTAINMENTS 

BAKER'S ACTING EDiTIO!^. 

Price, 15 cents, unless otherwise stated. 



A RICE PUDDING. A Comedy in Two Acts. By Esther B. Tif- 
I''AXY. For two male and three female characters. Scene, a simple interior, the 
same for both acts. Costumes modern and simple, but affording opportunity for 
elegant dressing, if it is desired. No properties required beyond wliat may be 
found in every house. The story of this piece deals with the mishaps of an In- 
experienced housekeeper in a new house. Its humor is abundant, its satire of 
the "Cooking Schoor' shrewd, its incidents dramatic, its dialogue brilliant. 
Time in playing, an hour and twenty minutes. (188s.; Price, 5J5 Cents. 

ANITA'S TRIAL ; or, Orn Girls in Camp. A Comedy in Three Acts, 
forfenialecharactersonly. By Ksthicr B. Tiffany. Eleven female charac- 
ters. Its story is entertaining, and its dialogue delicately humorous. One scene 
only is necessary for the three acts — a cami) in the woo(is, easily arranged. The 
dresses are simple and picturesque camping co.stiinus. The enormous suc- 
cess of •' Keb(.!<'ca"s Triumph" h^s created a demand for this sort of piece, to 
meet which we confidently present "Anita's Thial," in which is solved, with 
no less success than in its predecessor, the difficult problem f>f constructing a 
play of strong human interest without the assistance of male characters. ' Plays 
two hours. (18S9.) Price, 25 Ceuts. 

THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. A Comedy in One Act. By Esther 
B, Tiffany. For two male and three female characters. iScene, an interior; 
costumes modern. All its requirements are simple to the last degree^ and offer 
no difficulties. This l.ttle play is in I\Iiss Tiffany's best vein, and admirably con- 
tinues the series of parlor pieces, refined in humor and clever in plan, of which 
slie is the author. Plays about an hour. (1889.) 

AN AUTOGRAPH LETTER. A Comedy Drama in Three Acts. 
By Est II Kit li. Tiffany. For five maie and five female characters. This is by 
far the strongest work from this writer's pen, and unites to the sparkle and 
grace which characterized her earlier pieces, dramatic power of a high order. 
As in all her pieces, the dialogue is distinguished by brilliancy, and its hiunor 
genuine but refined. Two scenes only, both interiors, are required, and the 
properties and dresses are simple, modern in character, and easily gotten up. 
Equally suitable for stage or parlor performance. Plays about two hours. (1889.) 

Price, 25 Cents. 

THE BAT AND THE BALL; or, Negative Evidence. A Farce 
in One Act. Four male, three female characters. Scenery, costumes and prop- 
erties simple. Time in playing, about forty minutes. Showing the difficulties 
that may arise from the practice of Amateur Photography. A roaring farce. 
(1889.) 

SHAMROCK AND ROSE. A romantic Drama of Irish Life during 
the Rebellion of '98, in Four Acts. By JouN Fitzgerald Murphy. Seven 
male and three female characters. Costumes and scenery not difficult. Every 
part a good one. A sure hit. Printed as played under the author's personal <li- 
rection at the Dudley Street Opera House, Boston, and the Newport Opera 
H-^use. Plays two hours and a half. (ls87-'89.) Price, 25 Cents. 

A FOOL FOR LUCK. A Farcical Comedy in Two Acts. By W. M. 
Browne. For four male and three female characters. This laughable comedy 
of modern society turns upon the mania for stock speculation. The leading 
comedy character is a type of Englishman not unrelated to Lord Dundreary, the 
other personages and tlie scene being American. The dialogue is very bright, 
the scenery and costumes Tery easy. Plays one hour and a half. (1889.) , 

^ Price, 25 Cents. 



AN ENTIRE NOVELTY, 



THE GREAT MORAL 

Dime Show 

AN ENTERTAIfflENT IN ONE SCENE. 

By MARY B. HORNE, 

Autlior of "The Peak Sisters," Prof. Baxter's Great Invention," 

"The Book of Drills," "The Carnival of Days," 

"Plantation Bitters," Etc. 



Nine male, seven female cliaracte'-s. Costumes simple; scenery an ordinary 
interior, or may be dispensed with altogether. Plays from half an hour upward, 
according to the number and charai;ter of additional specialties introduced. 
Printed exactly as first performed by the Unity Club, Watertown, Mass., ou 
Friday evening, February 6, 1892. 



This most amusing entertainment is a biirlesque of the ordinary "dime- 
museum," so-called, but is entirely devoid of the vulgarity of its original, and 
perfectly adapted to church or home performance. The chai-acters are, save the 
lecturer and her assistant, a wonderful collection of "freaks" of nature (some- 
Avhat apsis<ted by art) who sing, dance or recite, according to their special 
abilities, in illustration of the explanatory lectme. It is most elastic in its 
requirements, can be played on any stage or platform, with or without scenery, 
and with a greater or smaller number of characters, according to taste or 
necessity. It can be made uproariously funny, and is in character as well as fact 

A SEQUEL TO THE PEAK SISTERS. 

Price, - - - 15 Cents. 



SYisro:F>sis. 

SCENE.— The exhibition hall of Sister Kexiah's Show. Sister Keziah's intro- 
duciory lecture, Johnathan, the bashful assistant. Introductory hymn. 
Introduction of the "freaks." Daniel JMcGiNTY redivivus. Daniel's song 
Lucia Z\rate, the celebrated ]\rexican dwarf. Kioto, the shortest man 
alive, not jinancialiy. The wonderful Mermaid. The Mermaid's song. 
Cassius \Vhite, the ossitied boy. A "rocky" recitation. Kalli'LC, the 
only specimen of his kind in captivity; illustrated by cuts. SIG^OR Galassi, 
the celebrated Glass-Eater. Galassi sings. Allegro Penseroso, the won- 
derful two-headed girl; not to be confounded with the more common two- 
faced girl. Two ways of eating a pickle. Ida and Tone, the Grecian 
maidens. Raphael Tintoret, the blind painter, who paints blinds in full 
view of the audience. Ah Chin and Wu.v Ll'ng, the Chinese twins, ex- 
tremely well connected from birth. '* The Land of Tea." Ka-foOZLE-fum. 
the Turkish vocalist. Grand tlnale and curtain. 



B 



AKER*S SELEC 
OF JUVEMILE 




'Designed especially for ChvLTch, School, and other Amateur Organ- 
izations. Complete, with all the music and full directions for 
performance. 



Grandpa's Birthday. In One Act. "Words by Dkxteii Smith; 
music by C. A. Wiirno, For one adult (male or female) and three 
children; chorus, if desired. Pjkice, 25 Cknts. 

Jimmy, The Newsboy. In One Act. Written and composed by 
\V. C. Pakkimi. For one adult (male), and one boy. No chorus. 
Very easy and tuneful. Pijice, 25 Cents. 

The Four-leafed Clover. In Three Acts. By Maky B. Horxe. 

For children of from six to fifteen years. Seven boys, seven girls, 
and chorus. Very picturesque. Pkice, 50 Cents. 

Beans and Buttons. In One Act. Words by Wm. II. Lepeue; 
music by Alfukd G. Kobyx. Two male and two female characters; 
no chorus. Very comical and easy. Pkice, 50 Cents. 

Hunt the Thimble. In One Act. Words by A. G. Lewis; music by 
Leo K. Lewi^^i^ Two male, two female characters and small chorus. 
Simple and pretty. PmcE, 50 Cents. 

Red Riding Hood's Rescue. In Four Scenes. Words by J. E. 
Estabuook; music by J. Astor Broad. Three male, four female 
ch*racters and chorus. Price, 50 Cents. 

Golden Hair and the Three Bears. In Five Scenes. By J. Astor 
Broad. Three adults (2 m., 1 f.), eight children and chorus. Music 
is easy, graceful, and pleasing. Price, 75 Cents. 

R. E. Porter ; or, The Interviewer and the Fairies. In Three 
Acts. Words by A. G. Lewis; music by Leo R. Lewis. Si-x male, 
six female characters, and chorus. Very picturesque^ and pretty. 

Price, '75 Cents. 

Gyp, Junior. In Two Acts. Words by Earl Marble; music by 
D. F. Hodges. Two males, one female (ailult), three children and 
chorus. Very successful and easily produced. Price, 75 Cents. 

AlvinGray; or. The Sailor's Return. In Three Acts. Written 
and composed by C. A. White. Ten characters, including chorus; 
can be made more effective by employing a larger nmiiber. 

Price, 75 Cents. 



Catalogues describing the above and other popular entertain- 
ments sent free on application to 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO., 

THEATRICAL PUBLISHERS, 

No. 23 Winter Street, - Boston, Mass. 



